Bootleg Sunrise
by The Island Hopper
Summary: Formerly titled A! The glamor of the Warners' Hollywood lives is long gone :: a story of betrayal, hope, and above all, the love that binds. Complete.
1. 1

PG13 for language. Enjoy.

A!

"I'm heading out for the day, Lou," Yakko Warner said to his boss, Louis Van Buren, who was sitting in the corner shuffling through a pile of papers. "See you tomorrow, ok?"

"Ok. Have a good night," Lou mumbled as Yakko grabbed his hat and left the office.

The sun shone brightly down on Yakko as he made his way west towards his townhouse on the outskirts of Toontown. Working as a lawyer for toons had its drawbacks, but he had to admit, it made him appreciate his off hours all the more. Though a lot of things had changed in the past ten years, Toontown wasn't one of them. It was still the chaotic and at times insane place to live as it always had been which meant that there were always plenty of cases for Yakko to work on at the firm. They didn't even have to advertise to get more than enough business; in fact, cases were always backed up, waiting to be taken on by the Van Buren Law Office.

Toon laws weren't quite the same as human laws. If a toon could prove what s/he did was out of a) ignorance, b) stupidity or c) for a laugh, the toon was more than likely to be cleared of charges. After all, a toon wasn't created to be a spiteful creature in any sense of the word. Quite the opposite in fact. Yakko had found a natural place in the world of toon law, both because he could talk his way out of any sticky situation and because his mind was sharper than most. He'd been with Van Buren for close to nine years and all was well. Besides that, he'd found a steady girlfriend in Babs Bunny, a former toon star just like he was, and they'd been together for close to eight years. They were enough alike to keep surprising one another year after year, and never ran out of things to do or talk about. In fact, the best part of the day was coming home to Babs. She, too, worked for a toon law firm (the "rival" law firm to Van Buren, Yakko would laugh) but usually arrived home before he did and could usually be found in the office den finishing up the day's paperwork. Yakko generally hated working at home, so would normally arrive home an hour or more after Babs.

Yakko's mind was preoccupied with his current case and he almost tripped over a kid handing out fliers in front of a travel agency. "Watch it, mister!" the kid cried, jumping back. "You almost squashed my foot!"

"Sorry, didn't see you," Yakko said, leaning down to the kid. "Forgive me?" he said with a charming smile.

The kid scowled and thrust a flier at him. "Only if you'll take one of these stupid things. Mom told me I have to hand out all of 'em, but nobody will take one."

Yakko took the outstretched flier. "Deal. Bye, kid." He stuffed the orange piece of paper into his side pocket and whistled the rest of the way home. An old jazz melody was playing softly in the condo as he entered and threw his briefcase in the corner. "You here, babe?" he called out, loosening his tie and heading to the kitchen.

"In here!" a voice came from the office. "Be out in a minute!"

Yakko grabbed a can of Coke from the refrigerator and sat down on the couch. The flier was sticking out his pocket, so he took it out and looked at it briefly. A deal for a cruise ship. He threw it to the coffee table, suddenly infuriated.

"What's the matter?" Babs said, coming out of the office with a handful of papers and seeing the stormy look on Yakko's face. "Bad day at the office?"

"Something like that," he muttered, grabbing the flier and stuffing it back in his pocket, not wanting Babs to see it. She looked at him oddly a moment, but went into the kitchen to put the papers in her briefcase. Yakko, who usually by this time had already covered a dozen topics in conversation upon seeing Babs for the first time since that morning, remained silent on the couch, lost in his thoughts. Babs emerged a moment later.

"What's with you?" she asked.

"Nothing," he snapped. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"_Yes," _he nearly shouted.

Babs rolled her eyes. "Fine. You want some dinner? Let's get some of that Chinese takeaway we had the other week. What was it called? YuFu? YuTu? _Something _like that…"

"Do whatever you want. I'm not hungry." Yakko grabbed his briefcase by the door. "I'm going to go do some work."

"At home?" Babs raised an eyebrow. "In all the time we've lived together, you've _never _done any work at home."

"So what! Does that mean I can't?"

"No, I – "

"Well then leave me alone, all right!" he shouted, making for the office.

"All right! Jesus, what's with you today? I just wanted to know if there was something I could do to help."

"There's not!" Yakko yelled, fully angered by something that had absolutely nothing to do with Babs. "There's not _anything _you can do about it, so just leave me alone!" He slammed the door behind him once he was in the office and sat down behind the desk, still breathing raggedly.

Babs was stunned but thought it best to leave him be for a while. Yakko had _never _spoken to her in that way the entire time she'd known him. A few tears came to her eyes but she brushed them away quickly; let him be a jerk. He'd talk when he was ready.

Yakko sat perfectly silent in the office for close to an hour before moving a muscle. The late day sun was streaming in through the open window but his mind was elsewhere. The memories had come on so strong, so quickly, and he hadn't been prepared for them. A voice in the back of his head shouted at him to go apologize to Babs. She was the most important person in his life now and didn't deserve his anger for something that had nothing to do with her. If he went out there now, she'd want to know what was up, and he wasn't sure he was ready to tell her quite yet.

From the very back of his legal bookcase, Yakko pulled out an old photo and put it on the desk. Gazing back up at him was an image of him and his siblings that he hadn't laid eyes on in years. He stared at it in silence for a long time, until he finally heaved a sigh and leaned back in his seat. There was a quick knock on the door. Babs entered quickly and grabbed a manila folder off the end of the desk.

"I'm sorry to disturb your angst," she said crisply. "But some of us actually _do _have some work to do."

"Babs, wait," he said softly as she was halfway out the door. "Look, I'm sorry…I shouldn't have yelled."

She turned back to look at him. "At least let me know _why _you're angry at me before you start screaming, ok?"

Yakko smiled faintly and rubbed his cheek. "It wasn't you. It wasn't you at all." He beckoned towards her. Babs came around the desk, sat down on Yakko's lap, and took the picture of he and his siblings in her hands.

"Is this why you were upset?" she asked. He put his arms around her waist but said nothing, his eyes not leaving the picture. "It's you and your brother and sister, right? I remember when this was taken."

"You took it," Yakko reminded her.

"That's right. I remember now. When was this, about seven or eight years ago?"

"Seven. It was in May."

Babs knew that Yakko hadn't spoken to or of his siblings in many years, but had never really asked why. He was the kind of person who would only talk about something when he was good and ready, and not before. Over the years, she'd learned to accept this as part of who he was. She was the same way, in many respects. Though they both loved to talk, they didn't talk about just anything – some topics, like Yakko's siblings, were an unspoken boundary that was not to be crossed. But as she gazed down at the picture and noticed Yakko's silence she had to wonder why now, of all times, he was upset about his family.

"Is there something you want to talk about?" she asked slowly, not wanting to scare him back into a moody silence for the rest of the night.

Silence fell in the small room, though Babs could tell Yakko was thinking hard. "I miss them," he said so softly she almost didn't catch it. Babs put her arm around his shoulders.

"Of course you do," she said, in an equally soft voice.

"I know you wonder why I never talk about them," he said in a louder voice, standing up and gently pushing Babs off his lap.

"It's probably the only thing I don't know about you," Babs admitted as she and he walked back to the kitchen, Yakko's picture still in her hand. He sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the surface, face cupped in his hands, while Babs poured them both some coffee. When she sat down, she noticed an orange flier in front of Yakko, who was staring at it intently. Babs stole a glance at it; it looked like one of those phony offers for a cruise ship deal. She frowned.

"What's this?"

"_This _is why I'm so upset."

"Babe, if you want to go on a cruise, we can…"

"No, it's not that." Yakko sighed. "I don't suppose you know my sister used to work on a cruise ship?"

"No, I didn't."

"Maybe she still works on one. How would I know? Haven't spoken to her in close to six years…" He took a sip of the coffee. "But it just reminded me of her. And Wakko."

"Look, Yakko, what happened all those years ago? I mean, you were so close when you had the show, and even afterwards for a little while. You remember we all used to go out on triple dates together? They were a scream. And then gradually we just didn't see them anymore, until one day you snapped at me for suggesting we all go out for dinner and a movie…"

"I know, all right?" Yakko said in a sharp tone. He immediately shook his head. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to speak to you like that."

"Look, I know you won't talk about something until you're ready. But how can I help if I don't even know what you're upset about? It's been years now, and I still don't know what happened. They were my friends too, you know."

"You're right, you're right…" Yakko fished a pack of cigarettes out of the back of the kitchen drawer and lit one up. Babs scoffed.

"You said you gave those up!" He shrugged at her helplessly. She sighed and grabbed one of her own. "Fine. If you have one, that means you can't be mad when I have one too. But we'll only have one, right?"

"Scout's honor," Yakko said with a grin.

"Now, how about you tell me what happened?"

"You make it sound like we had a big blow up between all of us. It didn't happen that way. You'd have known it if it did. It was gradual." He sighed. "After the show was cancelled, we all just started going our separate ways. We tried not to, Babs, honest we did. But I got a job at the law firm, I met you…I guess I just got preoccupied with my own life. It wasn't on purpose, but I just started ignoring Dot and Wakko. It was my ego more than anything. I felt like I had more important things to do, and I didn't want to be seen as one of those toons who couldn't move on with their lives after a show was cancelled."

"But your brother and sister weren't that way either."

"I know. Look, I'm not saying what I did was ok, all right? I mean, I'm the older brother, I'm supposed to protect them, and instead I just sort of…starting forgetting about them," he said softly, not looking her in the eye. "Babs, I swear it wasn't out of spite, or me thinking I was better than them. It wasn't that at all. But as time went on and I became less and less connected to them, things like arguments, misunderstandings and disagreements became more common. I said a lot of things that I didn't mean, because I felt like they were intruding on my life." He smiled disdainfully to himself. "I don't know what I was thinking. They always _were _a huge part of my life. It was like I was blaming them for being what they always had been. I was blaming them for being the people I loved most." He smashed his cigarette into the ashtray. "It made perfect sense to me back then, but now it doesn't." He looked up at her sharply. "But don't think it was all me, either! It wasn't _my _fault Wakko turned out the way he did! Do you know how many times I was called down to gambling joints, or night clubs, or bars, at three o'clock in the morning because my little brother had picked a fight, or he was dead drunk, or _something? _Tell me of one person who wouldn't get sick of _that _after a while!"

"So what happened?"

"Like I said, I got tired of it. Eventually I just didn't come when he needed help anymore. He was a mess, and I wanted no part of it. I gave him plenty of opportunities to shape up. Plus, I had a new legal career to think about, and you and I were just getting started. The last thing I wanted to do was scare you off because I had a brother who seemed more trouble than he was worth."

"Babe, you know I wouldn't have – "

"Yeah, _now _I know it wouldn't have mattered to you. But we were just getting to know each other, and I wanted to impress you. You were the craziest, most hilarious girl I'd ever met! There was no _way _I was going to do anything to screw up our relationship." He crossed his arms. "Of course, if you'd known I was the type of guy who would ignore his own brother when he needed help, you might not have stayed with me."

She didn't quite know how to answer that, so instead Babs said, "And what about Dot?"

Yakko reached for another cigarette, only to have his hand swatted away by Babs. "Lots of reasons. Mostly because I ignored Wakko. She did too, but at least she felt bad about it. She figured since I was the oldest I should 'do something about it.' I couldn't control him. Whoever could? He's a Warner! Anyone who says otherwise doesn't know jack about us." Yakko looked to the floor. "The worst part about it was that no one seemed to care, or even see what was happening. Other people thought it was entertaining when Wakko would cause havoc at a bar or a nightclub. Real funny, they thought. And besides that, he was just a toon. No human _really _cares about a toon, because they think we're just here to entertain them. You and I see it every day at work. Negligence, abuse, violence, real funny, yeah? It's a toon, who cares, right?"

"Come on Yakko, we do the best we can."

Yakko sighed. "Anyway, Dot was going her own way just like the rest of us. I hate to admit this, but I began to resent her for it. She was always my little sis, and now suddenly she wanted her own life apart from me and Wakko. I wasn't as important to her as I used to be. Maybe I held that against her, I don't know. But soon I lost contact with both of them. So many times over the years I've played back little things in my head that happened during those times. I keep wondering if I had said this or that, would it really be any different? But I wouldn't even know how to go about finding them again."

"Well, do you _want _to find them again?"

"I feel responsible for them. I'm their big brother. But they wouldn't want to see me again…I abandoned them…"

"Look, they're your siblings. They'll understand. Plus, I'm sure they'd rather have a brother who swallowed his pride back in their life than an egotistical brother who'll have nothing to do with them."

The idea suddenly seemed so repulsive to Yakko that he stood up quickly and shoved another cigarette in his mouth, before Babs could stop him. "No, let's just forget the whole thing. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"But – "

"That Chinese food sounds good. Let's get some."

"Babe – "

"I'm _finished _talking about this now, all right?" Yakko said in a quick tone. "I told you what you wanted to know. Now let's just drop it."

They didn't speak another word to each other the rest of the night.


	2. 2

For the first time in nine years, Yakko found his mind wandering at work and his cases suffering as a result of it. It wasn't like the time he and Babs had broken up for two weeks because he'd accidentally totaled her car when he wasn't paying attention to the road. It wasn't like the time he'd been sued by Warner Bros Studio for the name 'Warner.' It wasn't like anything that had ever happened before, because this time, it had to do with people he loved deeply. Or had loved at one time.

Yakko tried to deny it, of course. He found himself drinking and smoking more than he ever had, and he didn't particularly like the change in himself that ensued. He snapped at Babs more often. He became impatient. He paced the interior of their home office every night, his mind racing with thoughts that he didn't even fully understand, feelings of guilt and self-hatred welling up inside of him that he'd never felt before. He stopped eating on a regular basis, with the effect that his clothes now seemed to hang off of him. He and Babs hadn't even slept in the same bed for close to two months now, Yakko preferring the cold, hard couch to the loving arms of his girlfriend. He supposed it was some sort of self-imposed punishment coming from his subconscious, but he couldn't seem to change it. He couldn't help it.

He was worried about his brother and sister.

Were they all right? Did they have enough to eat? Did they have someplace safe to go to at night? Not knowing the answers to these brought torment to the brother who'd always considered himself the Warners' own best advocate. It's not that he didn't doubt his siblings could do just fine without him; it was not knowing if they _were _doing fine without him that bothered him.

Dinner had become a silent time for both Babs and Yakko. Music played in the background now to break up the awkwardness of the hushed meal, but a little of the uneasiness was always there. Tonight was no different, and as the soulful voice of Mahalia Jackson did her best to ease the iciness between the couple, Yakko poked at his food disdainfully.

"For crying out loud Yakko, if you don't want it, don't eat it! But don't sit there stabbing it!" Babs finally cried.

Yakko threw his fork down. "How the hell am I supposed to eat it? It takes like rubber!"

"_You _made it!"

"Well _you _picked it out!"

"Oh _Christ!" _Babs said. "How much longer is this going to go on?"

"How much longer is _what _going to go on?"

"You acting like a sulking two year old! I've put up with it for _months _now."

"Oh well excuse me, Miss Perfect!" Yakko sneered sarcastically. "I'm sorry we can't all be as faultless as you are!"

"You know what?" Babs threw her napkin to the table and started to walk towards the bedroom. "I don't need this, buddy. I'm outta here."

Yakko didn't move until he could see her packing a suitcase through the open door of the bedroom. He shot up out of his seat, suddenly frightened. "Wait a minute, wait a minute! You're not _leaving, _are you?"

"What does it look like!" she bellowed at him. "I've _tried _being patient. I've _tried _being kind. But as I don't even _know _what's eating you, because you won't _talk _to me, I can't even feel _sympathy _for you! There's only so much of your behavior that a person can take, and I've had it!"

"Wait, Babs, please…"

"Yakko, honey, I love you. I do. But I can't put up with this anymore. Your moodiness, your sharp tongue, everything. I know this _must _have something to do with your brother and sister, but it's something you've got to work out for yourself, all right?"

"Babs, wait, just wait a minute." Yakko jumped on top of her suitcase, refusing to let her throw any more clothes in. "Look, I need you, all right? I need you to be there for me!"

"Oh, and like I don't need anything back? Honestly, Yakko…"

"Babs, we're made for each other! Haven't we always got along great together? Come on, I know I'm not perfect, but haven't I made you happy?" Babs continued to pile clothes on the bed and tried her best to ignore Yakko's heartfelt pleas. He watched her for a moment longer before sighing and said in a serious tone that she'd never heard before, "Don't do this Babs. I've made this mistake before. Believe me. It's not worth it to leave someone you love when you know they need help."

Babs paused at the dresser a moment. She'd almost forgotten about he and his brother. Yakko's recent behavior started to make more sense all of a sudden. She turned to meet Yakko's watering gaze, then embraced him. "Things need to change, understand?" she said softly into his ear. She felt him nod. She pulled him tighter. "We're going to find your brother and sister. We need to fix this."

"Are you sure it's the only way?" he whispered to her, without breaking the embrace.

"Deep down, it's what you want," she whispered back. "Maybe you just need a little shove in the right direction."

"You threatening to leave is it," Yakko said with a feeble laugh, pulling away and looking into Babs' face. Neither one of them ever got too emotional, but then again, neither one of them had ever threatened to leave before. It had scared him. "All right. We'll find Wakko and Dot."

Babs grinned for seemingly the first time in months. "Now you're talkin'!"

"But where do we even start? I mean, they could be anywhere, doing anything…"

"Babe," Babs said, closing a dresser door. "We're lawyers. Tracking people down is part of our job. We'll start with tax records, the most recent ones."

Yakko smiled. "You are a genius, you know that?"

"Of course I am," Babs said in a matter-of-fact voice, kissing Yakko on the end of his nose. "Tax records will have all the info we need – addresses, telephone numbers, hell! Income, number of dependants – "

"Dependants! Maybe I'm an uncle!" Yakko said proudly.

"Look, tomorrow at work you work on finding Wakko, and I'll work on finding Dot. It shouldn't take much more than a day, as long as the government has _some _record of them."

"Yeah, I wouldn't trust a Warner to always pay his taxes," Yakko mused. "But I do know that everyone knows we exist."

"_Not _knowing you guys exist has always been the tricky part. Do they still play your old cartoons?"

"Who knows?" Yakko said with a shrug. "I never see any royalties. Mind you, what else is new?" For the first time in a very long time, Yakko felt hungry and grabbed a bag of chips. He began shoving fistfuls in his mouth. "I mean, look at some of the other toons who were the most famous toons of their day! Where are they now? Working at a fast food joint, or sweeping the streets. You know who I ran into the other day dressed in a janitor uniform? Woody Woodpecker! The guy was famous for thirty years, and the second his cartoons stop being shown on TV, he's out the door. And don't even get me started on Tom and Jerry!"

It never ceased to amaze Babs how strongly Yakko felt about justice for cartoons. She shook her head. "We do the best we can. But maybe we can make life a little better for your brother and sister if we can find them. Let's focus on that."

Yakko nodded. _Don't worry guys, _he thought silently to Wakko and Dot. _Your big brother is coming back for you…_


	3. 3

It had been another exhausting day at the factory. Wearily, Wakko Warner made his way to the time clock to punch out, wiping his grimy hands on his light blue one piece uniform. He'd been there since six o'clock that morning. A new shipment of filters had just arrived and he'd spent the better part of the day running heavy boxes from the back of a semi to the warehouse, where material would be processed. It had taken longer than everyone expected because the main generator in the warehouse had inexplicably died around five o'clock, and Wakko's boss would not let anyone leave until it was up and could be running all night long. It was now close to nine o'clock at night, and tomorrow morning he'd have to get up and do it all over again.

Wakko knew he wasn't a bright guy, and knew his mind hadn't been running at top capacity in the past few years due to mind-numbing jobs such as this one, but once in a while it occurred to him that he actually hated his job and his life. He and other toons in town had long since learned to anesthetize themselves to the drudgery of their lives with any available means, but nothing was a permanent solution. It just dulled the pain for a while.

Home life wasn't much better for Wakko. He lived with his girlfriend, Constance, and five kids. The number of kids fluctuated, anywhere from four kids to (one time) as high as nine. Wakko was never sure exactly how many of them were actually Constance's, and how many were her sister's or her sister's friends' kids. He never asked. Wakko didn't care all that much anyway – he was ignored most of the time, and that was fine. He knew his role was to bring home a paycheck every week, and as long as he wasn't alone, he didn't care too much what his home life was like.

There was one bright spot in his life, and he wasn't even exactly sure it could correctly be _called _a bright spot. Sometimes he thought of it more as his 'enduring responsibility' than anything. Constance and he had had one child – that he was sure of anyway – who was now about five. It was hard to be accurate about the age, though; Wakko was sure there was something wrong with the little boy. He'd never spoken a word and barely ever looked up from the floor. Wakko didn't remember when exactly his son had been born since he'd been drinking so heavily at that time, and Constance didn't seem to care all that much period. Constance had named their son Charles (after one of her favorite soap opera stars) but Wakko had always called him Harpo because he'd never spoken. Wakko wasn't all that sure that Harpo knew who Wakko or anyone else was, but some part of him loved his son deeply.

Wakko had done his best for the little boy, but was mostly at a loss. He'd pick Harpo up and play with him every now and then, but only very rarely did Harpo even smile at his father's antics. Wakko mostly just got a vacant look from the boy. Sometimes as Wakko lay in bed at night listening to Constance breathe softly next to him, he wondered if babies could hear things when they were still in their mother's stomach. If Harpo did, he would have heard all those horrible arguments between Wakko and Constance about whether to even keep him or not. That might explain a few things.

As Wakko trudged home in the darkness towards their dilapidated house about a mile away, he resisted the urge to blow his paycheck in the liquor store he had just passed. He'd done it before, only to face the wrath of Constance, who only seemed to notice him when he was either broke or drunk. He didn't give a shit what she thought of him, anyway – it's not like he loved her, for Christ's sake. He knew full well they used each other for certain resources the other had need of: she for money, and he for sex. That's all it was. In addition to his meager paycheck, he received federal funding because the family he supported was so poor. Even with this combined income, he was perpetually in debt. If he'd had more initiative, he would have grabbed Harpo and left a long time ago. Or maybe he would have just left Harpo. He didn't know.

Wakko abruptly turned back around and entered the liquor store. The owner, who saw Wakko on a regular basis in his store, shouted hello to him. Wakko saluted him and headed straight for the low-priced hard liquor section. He grabbed a few bottles of cheap, strong whiskey, a case of beer, the biggest jug of gin he could find and a good bottle of vodka. Both he and Constance could stomach almost anything except bad vodka – it was the one luxury they indulged in. "Gimmie a few packs of Brasileriros, would you?" Wakko said, naming his cigarette brand of choice. "Four or five."

"We're all out," the owner said. "Pay day, remember? Every guy from the factory's been in here this afternoon. Brasileriros are cheap and strong. They're what you guys go for first."

Wakko gritted his teeth. "Fine. I'll try the convenience store down the street. Just give me a bag though, all right? I may be a toon but even I can't carry all this without something to put it in."

With a large paper bag loaded with the bottles and the case of beer dangling off two fingers on his left hand, Wakko made his way down to the Speedy Stop. The first thing to meet his eye when he walked in was a display of fresh fruits. His mind quickly darted to Harpo, who, because he was so quiet, sometimes got overlooked during mealtimes. It was like the mother bird and her babies that had made her nest in the gutter at his house last spring which had fascinated him so much. Constance and the others thought he was crazy, but he'd stand looking up at the birds for hours. He learned that the loudest of the bunch always got fed first, sometimes meaning that the quieter birds didn't get fed at all. When they were all grown up and ready to leave the nest, the birds who had been the loudest were also now the biggest and strongest. The quieter ones were skinny, and their feathers hung apathetically from their wings. Wakko had put Harpo up on his shoulder and pointed to the birds. In fact, that had been the last time since then that he'd seen his son smile.

Wakko wasn't entirely sure he _liked _these feelings of fatherliness, especially when he had to decide between Harpo and his nicotine addiction, but he was feeling generous and so bought a few oranges, some lunchmeat and a pint of milk instead of Brasileriros. He knew Constance would be pissed off for not bringing cigarettes home, but fuck her. If she fed their son once in a while, he wouldn't have to do it.

The lock to the front door was almost always jammed, meaning that Wakko had to nearly kick the door down to get in. The house was almost completely dark except for a small table lamp that was on in the corner. He set down the bag and the beer and scanned the room. Just as he'd thought, Harpo had been left alone in the corner again. Not that it mattered. The kid never moved, so they never had to worry about Harpo getting himself into trouble. Still, for some reason, the sight of his only son hunkered down in a corner facing the wall night after night always made Wakko a little sad.

"Hey buddy!" Wakko said as he tossed the small boy up in the air and then caught him. "I've got some dinner for you."

Wakko quickly made a small sandwich and cut up the oranges on a plate. He sat Harpo down at the table, placed the milk and plate of food in front of him, and commanded, "Eat."

Though Harpo could understand simple commands, he usually needed helping in carrying them out. After it became apparent that Harpo was not going to feed himself, Wakko sat down and patiently brought the food to his son's mouth. For the hundredth time, Wakko wondered why in the hell he even bothered. He didn't consider himself a humanitarian by any means, and anyone who knew Wakko could affirm this. However, whenever he looked in Harpo's eyes, he saw himself. Sometimes he even saw his brother and sister. He scoffed and wondered what they might think of him having a kid even _dumber _than he was. What a waste of time.

Still, as those little hands clutched his bigger ones, Wakko couldn't help but sigh softly and steal a quick kiss on his son's forehead. If Wakko and Harpo were alone, a passerby might even be able to see a little affection passing from the father to the son, but only briefly at that. Wakko had been this way for so long that he didn't really seem like the same toon star he'd been just less than ten years earlier, and didn't want to be.

Harpo finished everything rather quickly, signifying he had been hungry. A dark look crossed Wakko's face as he realized Harpo must not have gotten dinner that night. He picked Harpo up, who yawned gently and wrapped his small arms around his father's neck, and carried him upstairs to the bedroom. The house was rather large but almost always filled to capacity and finding a bed was a hit or miss operation. Wakko opened the door to the third bedroom on the right (where they usually put Harpo for the night) and nearly tripped over a form lying near the doorway. The little person sat up and snarled, "Watch it!"

"Who the hell are you?" Wakko hissed, annoyed to find another stranger in the house.

"Aunt Constance's niece! We got evicted so we're all here! There's no room, you'll have to sleep somewhere else!" the voice of a ten year old girl spat at him. Another figure sat up in the darkness.

"What's that? What's going on?"

"That dumbass boyfriend of Con's is looking for a bed."

"Tell him to get out, there's no room in here, or any of the other rooms."

"Get out, there's no room in here or in – "

"Yeah, I got it!" Wakko growled as he slammed the door. Harpo held tighter onto him. Wakko entered his own bedroom – where only he and Constance were allowed – and set Harpo down on the bed while he made up a makeshift bed for the night for the kid on the floor. It wasn't until he was on his hands and knees that he realized how cold the floor was. Harpo would surely get sick if he slept down here. A very large part of Wakko didn't care, because the only thing he'd wanted to do since he got up that morning was crawl into bed and have it off with Constance. Supposing he just put Harpo down there until he and Constance were done? Wakko looked back up to the bed to find Harpo staring down at him with those big eyes and sucking his thumb. Wakko sighed; the kid was wide awake! Wakko couldn't concentrate if he knew his kid was watching! Not without a little cursing, Wakko shoved Harpo to the middle of the bed, climbed in, and covered them both with the blanket he shared with Constance. He couldn't _believe _that some people actually _wanted _children…

Wakko could feel his son pawing at him to turn over and hold him, but Wakko stoically resolved not to. _Not _when that little pipsqueak was the reason he couldn't be over there with Constance at the moment. He finally fell asleep a couple hours later, after listening to his son slowly fall asleep.


	4. 4

"Babs? Hey, where are ya, babe?" Yakko called as he burst through the front door the next day, throwing off his shoes, hat and tie as he sped into the office. "I'm supposed to be getting a fax – "

"Got it! It just came through!" Babs' voice came from the office. Yakko raced in and began to pace.

"You read it, you read it. I can't," he said frantically. "Go on, tell me."

"They found him!" Babs said happily. "You must have done some serious sleuthing – "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, read it!" Yakko cried.

Babs read it off to him. "Well, looks like he lives in that little factory town of Alballa…"

"Where's that?"

"It's about three hours east of here."

Yakko smiled a bit. "My brother lives in Alballa. My brother only lives three hours away! Go on, read the rest of it!"

Babs frowned. "Wow. Looks like he has six dependents."

"Six kids? Atta _boy!" _Yakko said proudly. "Boy, he's been busy!"

"Well, it doesn't look like they're all his. And it looks like one of them is an adult." Babs handed the paper to Yakko, who sat down in a plush leather chair in the corner and looked over the document.

"Yeah, looks like only one of them might actually be his." He looked up at Babs. "But just think, Babs! I've got a nephew! I've got a nephew that I didn't even _know _about!" He read the paper again. "I've got a five year old nephew named Charles!" Yakko laughed. "Man, if he's anything like his dad, I bet he's a handful! I wonder what he looks like? I wonder what kinds of things he likes? Just _think _Babs! A _nephew!" _

Babs smiled, happy to see Yakko so excited. "That's great, babe. What does your brother who lives in Alballa with one son do for a living?"

Yakko glanced down eagerly at the paper once again. "He – He – " Yakko's face fell. "He's on welfare." They were both silent for a moment, letting this sink in. Yakko finally threw down the paper and stood up. "Damn. You and I go on vacations, we live in a townhouse on the nice side of town, we've got enough food, we've got savings, and my brother – my _own little brother _– is on welfare!" He sighed and stared out the window. "So what the hell kind of brother does that make me?"

"Look, you didn't know – "

"I should have. I'm his big brother. I said I'd always look out for him." Yakko bit his lip. "And it turns out I'm a liar."

Babs picked up the paper and continued to look it over. "If it makes you feel any better, looks like he _does _have a job on top of this. But it looks like his wages are being garnished for something and so he receives federal aid."

"What are they being garnished for?"

"Doesn't say. We'd have to do a background check for something like that. And I'm not sure we have the authority."

Yakko sighed, his mood suddenly deflated. "Did you find anything on Dot?" he asked evenly.

"Nope. And not for lack of trying. She is one elusive person. I'll keep trying though." Babs saw how disappointed Yakko was – in both what they'd found and what they hadn't – and wrapped her arms around him for comfort. "I'm sorry babe. About everything."

"It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either, Yakko. I know you're going to go blaming yourself, but baby, it has nothing to do with you."

"Well, that remains to be seen." He broke away from her and sat down in the computer chair behind the desk, patting his lap for Babs to sit down with him, which she did. He hugged her. "But we tried, right?"

"That's right."

Yakko held Babs tighter. "And I'm going to find them both."


	5. 5

A/N: Dis ain't de end.

Wakko woke up to the deafening sound of cartoons being played at full volume downstairs. He groaned and rolled over, his eyes falling on the old analog clock next to him. 10:23.

"_Shit!" _Wakko cried, jumping up out of bed and pulling on his factory uniform as quickly as he could. He ran to the stairs only to trip over a toy truck lying in the hallway, sending him cascading down a flight of steps. He landed at the bottom, and clutched his head. That had _hurt! _

"Don't bother yourself," he could hear Constance drawl to him from the next room. "Your boss already called. Said not to bother comin' in. Said he was fed up with your shit. Lost another one, dumbass."

Wakko picked himself up and wandered into the kitchen. "At least I _had _a job," he growled to the small woman seated at the table smoking a cigarette. "You haven't had a job in years, _dear." _

She ignored his comment and pointed half-heartedly towards the center of the room. "Junior learned a new trick."

Wakko looked to see Harpo struggling to reach the couch with one of his little hands. When he grabbed ahold of the arm, he slowly hoisted himself up into a standing position, steadied himself, and proceeded to walk a few steps towards Wakko. Wakko's face lit up with a smile.

"He can _walk! _He can fucking _walk!" _Wakko ran over to him and held up one of his hands, leading him around the perimeter of the living room a few times. This done, he let go and watched as Harpo teetered around on his own, holding his arms outstretched so not to bump into anything.

"Oh, and _thank you _for blowing your last paycheck on booze!" Constance burst suddenly, ignoring Harpo's feat. Wakko turned to her.

"So the hell what? It's what we would have bought anyway."

"The rent's due. We're a month behind already. We're gonna get kicked out if we don't come up with some money pretty soon."

"I'll figure something out," Wakko said in a disinterested voice. Margo, Constance's sister who was almost constantly at their house, held up the bottle of vodka to Wakko from where she was sitting on the couch, obviously drunk. The bottle was only half full.

"Come on. You gotta get your nerve up to go look for another job," she slurred.

Drinking vodka at ten thirty in the morning was not something that Wakko would have thought he'd do ten years ago – but that was then, and this was now. He swiped the bottle from her grip and took a long gulp, then looked back down at Harpo, who was still walking slowly around the perimeter of the living room. Margo's children were half-watching the loud cartoons, and half beating each other up. Wakko had long learned that for Margo's children, school was not on their priority list and therefore they almost never went. They'd gotten held back a grade already, but it didn't seem to matter much to them.

The oldest girl, around ten, suddenly turned her attention to Harpo, who had just spilled her orange juice by tripping over it. She screamed. "This stupid little midget just _spilled _my drink!" she whined to her mother.

"So do something about it, Leslie," Margo said flatly, not tearing her gaze from the cartoons. Wakko took another long drink from the bottle as he sat down on the couch.

Leslie unceremoniously shoved Harpo, causing him to fall flat on his back, hitting his head on the floor. "Watch it, twerp!" she yelled at him. Harpo looked up at her, but didn't move from where he'd fallen down. He continued to look at her seriously until she threw a spoon from her cereal at him. "Stop looking at me, weirdo! Moooom, Harpo won't stop staring at me!" Leslie's seven year old brother, a particularly conniving little redhead named Brad, took the rest of Leslie's cereal and poured it over Harpo's head. Leslie and Brad broke into hysterical laughter at the sight of milk dripping down Harpo's face and his surprised expression.

_Why doesn't he do something? _Wakko thought disdainfully as he stared down at his son. He took another liberal sip from the bottle. _Why doesn't he fight back? _

"What a dummy!" Brad cried gleefully, always happy to make fun of those he thought less of. Harpo began struggling to get back up, only to have Brad push him back over and laugh. "C'mon dummy, can't you get up?"

"Brad, shut up. Mommy can't hear the cartoons," Margo pratted to her son, who stuck his tongue out but remained silent. Margo looked over at Wakko. "Hey, didn't you used to be in cartoons?"

Suddenly everyone in the room was looking over at Wakko, who poured the last drops of vodka down his throat and belched. "Yep," he said simply.

"Why aren't you in them anymore? 'Cause some toons have been in cartoons a really long time. Why aren't you still in them? You too stupid? Did everyone hate you? Weren't funny?" Brad rambled. Wakko resisted the urge to throw the bottle at him.

"Lots of reasons," Wakko said. He got up and grabbed Harpo by the back of his overalls, not wanting to carry the discussion any farther. He carried Harpo into the kitchen, where he wiped off his face with a towel, and then set him back down on his feet. "Walk," Wakko said sternly to the little boy. Harpo looked up at him with big eyes but didn't let go of his father's hand. "Jesus, why do I even bother…" Wakko grumbled, wriggling free of his son's grasp and walking out to the dining room where he sifted through the paper bag from last night for the gin. A moment later he felt a small form wrap around his leg and he looked down to find Harpo looking back up at him. Wakko shook free and sighed heavily, both out of anger and frustration. "You're five years old!" he roared at Harpo. "Don't think you're such hot shit for learning how to walk, little man! You can't even understand one word I'm saying!" He gently pushed Harpo towards the kitchen. "Go on! Get!" Harpo didn't move. "Show me some sign you understand me!" Wakko cried down to his son. Still, Harpo didn't move. Wakko pushed him harder. "Get out of here! Go on, I don't want to see you! You can walk now, so get out!" Harpo walked back towards Wakko and wrapped himself around his father's leg lovingly. Wakko felt like his heart was breaking. He gruffly picked the boy up, bringing him to eye level. "What's _wrong _with you?" Wakko whispered fiercely to him. Wakko thought he could see a flicker in Harpo's eye, but it could have just been the vodka. Wakko sighed and pulled Harpo into a tight hug. "I wish I could have done better for you, Harpo," he said in a painful whisper to his son. "You were just born to the wrong father, that's all…"

"When the hell are you going out to find a job?" Constance screeched from the living room. Wakko put Harpo down.

"Right now." Wakko grabbed his keys, threw one last look at Harpo, and slammed the door behind him.

Meanwhile Yakko had jumped in he and Babs' red convertible that morning headed towards Alballa. The convertible had been a last minute splurge, when they'd each received bonuses and decided a celebration was in order. It hadn't been new, but it hadn't been old either, and Yakko had to admit he looked pretty good in it. Yakko wasn't quite sure where his brother would be but figured Alballa couldn't be a large town to begin with. If he didn't see Wakko wandering around outside, he'd just start asking places. He figured at least _someone _would know where Wakko was. It was hard to ignore a Warner.

He was both excited and nervous as hell; he half expected to get a punch in the face. Still, he wanted – he needed – to see his brother again, and was willing to risk a few broken bones to do it.

As Yakko rolled into town, he could see right away that Alballa was a factory town and little else. Main street was a collection of boarded up storefronts, a greasy lunch counter type place, a seedy bar and two liquor stores right next to one another. Further down were rows and rows of old, decaying houses that didn't look livable. Still, he saw plenty of people – plenty of toons – hanging around on front porches, on the hoods of cars, and on the street curbs. _This _is where his brother lived?

He could smell the factory long before he could see it. Yakko drove past, but the sign displaying the company name was so obscured by graffiti he couldn't quite tell what kind of factory it was. From the smell of it, it was something industrial. He was lost in his thoughts as he passed by a hunched figure walking the opposite direction in a blue uniform. Yakko slammed on the brakes a second later as he realized it was _him! _It was _Wakko! _

Yakko hit reverse and quickly slid into a parking spot along the side of the cracked, pot-hole filled road. He jumped out of the car and ran after the man in blue, who also seemed lost in his thoughts. Yakko's voice got stuck in his throat and he found his heart was pounding too hard to be able to shout. Instead, as Wakko heard someone coming up behind him, he turned to see a familiar face running after him.

"It _is _you!" Yakko cried to Wakko. He threw his arms around his brother. "I knew it! I knew I'd find you!"

Wakko shoved him away. "What the – Yakko? What the hell, man? What are _you _doing here?" He had a cigarette hanging lazily from the side of his mouth, and despite the early hour, Yakko could smell alcohol on his breath.

"I'll explain later. Let me look at you." Yakko stepped back and got a good look at his baby brother for the first time in six years. The change was pretty dramatic, and Yakko fought hard not to let his antipathy towards Wakko's appearance shine through in his facial expression. Though Wakko was a toon, he somehow appeared older, more ragged and haggard then Yakko had ever seen him. There were huge bags under his eyes, and his clothes hung off his small frame as though they were several sizes too big. Yakko grabbed the cigarette from Wakko's mouth. "You shouldn't smoke," he said, his 'big-brotherliness' coming back to him. "It's not good for you."

Wakko looked shocked, then snatched the cigarette back from Yakko. "I don't even know what to say. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Yakko said.

"Why? You haven't spoken one word to me in six years; why do you come back now, hm?" He sighed and scratched the side of his head. "And why did it have to be _this _morning?"

Yakko was thoughtful for a moment. "How to explain it? I really couldn't tell you." He looked his brother in the eye. "I missed you, bro. I want to be a part of your life again, if you'll let me."

Wakko began to walk away at a furious pace. "Why should I? You deserted me. What the hell do I owe you?"

"Look, look, wait a minute." Yakko caught up. He jumped in front of Wakko. "I know I've got some explaining to do. Please. Is there somewhere we can go?"

Wakko looked warily at his big brother for a moment, then slowly pointed at the bar across the street from where they were standing. "Jack's opens at noon. You can buy me a drink."

"At twelve o'clock in the afternoon?" Yakko said with a slight look of disgust. "You sure?"

"Hey, I didn't _ask _you to walk back into my life. The _least _you could do is buy me a beer."

"Yeah, but isn't it a little early? I mean – "

"Hey, do you want to talk or not?" Wakko said sharply. Yakko held up his hands in defeat and the two made their way silently to the bar. Jack's was a dingy, low lit tavern that served as the small town's only bar, and could usually be found packed with toons every night of the week. Wakko slid onto one of the stools in front of the bar and lit up another cigarette. He offered one to Yakko, who, though he had sworn to Babs that he'd quit again, took one. He didn't want to do anything to make Wakko upset. "Fuji," Wakko said simply to the bartender, who didn't even look surprised that someone had ordered alcohol so early in the day. Yakko waved the bartender away and instead dragged heavily on his cigarette.

"So…" he said slowly, unsure of exactly of what to say to his little brother.

"So," said Wakko curtly. He took a long sip of his beer. "Last time I saw you I was being dragged away in handcuffs for being drunk and disorderly. I was yelling for you to help me, right? And you just turned away. My own brother just turned his back and walked away. I was in that pisspot of a jail for weeks."

"Weeks? On a drunk and disorderly?"

"They had a warrant out for other charges. All of which could have been dropped with the signature of some sort of guardian. Especially one who was a lawyer."

Yakko frowned. "You're doing it again. You're doing what you did all those years ago. You expected me to just stand by while you destroyed things and made an ass of yourself, and then you expected me to pick up the pieces. You never took responsibility for your actions. It always somehow ended up being _my _fault."

"I never said that! All I wanted was someone to stand by me!"

"Stand by you while you fucked up your life, you mean?"

"It's _my _life! You were _always _butting in and telling me what to do!" Wakko downed another portion of his drink. "It wouldn't have been so bad if you hadn't been so goddamn _condescending _about it, like you were _god, _and I was some little piece of _shit!" _

"For that I'm sorry," Yakko said quietly. Wakko looked at him, surprised at such a frank admission from Yakko, who usually never admitted he had been wrong. "I know I shouldn't have treated you like that. But it was hard to watch my little brother make a mess of his life after the show ended. I was embarrassed and scared for you. I guess I didn't know how to handle it. And my life was going so well…" Yakko sighed. "Part of me thought you would taint my life," he said softly.

"Did I?" Wakko asked seriously.

Yakko put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Never."

Wakko smiled a little bit but said nothing. If his brother didn't think he was a total screw up who ruined anyone's life he came in contact with, maybe there was hope after all. "Thanks," Wakko whispered. Yakko pulled him into a hug and squeezed him tightly. The younger Warner had always looked up to his brother, and his heart had broken as he watched Yakko walk away from him on that night so long ago. It was the most heart-wrenching moment of his life when his own brother wouldn't even acknowledge him.

"So let's play a little catch up. Reacquaint me with my brother," Yakko said with a smile. "I hear I have a nephew."

"How'd you know that?"

"Tax records. Its how I found you."

"Is that legal?"

"For a lawyer it is."

"Still a lawyer, huh? Still with Babs?"

"Yep."

"Married? Kids?"

"Nope. But we're thinking of getting a goldfish."

"And I suppose that's your convertible out there," Wakko said, nodding to the red car parked outside.

"How'd you know that?"

"Apart from the fact that my brother loves flash? It's the only car on the street that looks drivable. The rest are missing windshields and license plates."

"Is that legal?"

"For a poor toon it is."

"How'd you end up in this town, anyway?" Yakko asked.

Wakko finished his beer and motioned for Jack to bring him another one. "I knocked up Constance," he said simply. "She's my girlfriend. Well, kinda. We live together. Her sister lives here. Her sister is also constantly at a loss for a place to live. So we all moved in together. Right now there about five people living at my house. Sometimes there's more. Sometimes less. I don't always know who they are, but I don't ask anymore. I don't care."

Yakko looked puzzled. "Wait, wait. So Constance is your 'kinda' girlfriend."

"Yeah. You know. 'Kinda.' She needs money and I need sex. We both know what we're in it for. It's just convenient to live together, that's all."

Yakko was dumbfounded but tried not to show it. "And Charles?"

"Harpo, you mean. My son. Yeah. He lives there too." Wakko drank deeply from the bottle. "Margo – Constance's sister – always has a few of her kids over. Hell, for all I know, they could be Constance's. It doesn't matter to me. She can do what she wants." Wakko could see the disapproving look on his brother's face. "Not all of us can be star lawyers, all right? This is what my life is. Who cares?"

"I do. How – I mean really, _how _– did it get this way? How did you go from being one of the best-known toons in Toontown to a live-in money-maker who sits in a bar at noon and is already half drunk? Who doesn't even know all the people in his house?"

"This helped," Wakko said, shaking the bottle of beer. "And I don't know. Fate? Or maybe I was just lazy." Wakko shrugged. "Look, I don't know, all right? I don't want a lecture."

"I don't want to give you one. I shouldn't have to. But I guess…" Yakko looked away. "I guess I don't know why things aren't better than they are for you." Both brothers were silent for several minutes. Wakko waved away the bartender who came to offer him another drink. Finally Yakko sighed and said, "So am I going to get to meet this nephew of mine, or what?"

Wakko shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't really want Yakko to see where – or how – he lived. He also didn't want his brother to see Harpo, because he knew there would be all sorts of questions thrown at him that he had no idea how to answer. "He's kind of quiet," was all Wakko said.

"A thinker, huh? Come on, we'll hop in my car and go see him. And I can meet your 'kinda' girlfriend," Yakko said with a small smile. Wakko, feeling he had no choice, slid off the bar stool slowly and followed Yakko to the car. Wakko met the look of numerous curious neighbors who had spotted the well-to-do looking toon driving and he sitting in the passenger's seat. Finally Wakko pointed to a dilapidated green house with white shutters that were falling off their hinges.

"That's it," he said.

Wakko kicked the door in as he always had to and called inside, "Constance?" which met with silence. Wakko shrugged to Yakko. "They're all around here somewhere, probably. They'll come out of the woodwork when they realize you've got that fancy car. Come on in."

Yakko entered behind his brother and did his best to jostle the door back into place behind him. Gray walls met with stained, dark green carpet on the floor as Yakko took a look around the house that his brother had spent all these years in. There were no pictures on the walls. No neatly arranged furniture, only a couple of battered lay-z-boys and a kitchen table with one of its legs propped up by a phone book. The windows were covered by off-white, plastic blinds that were closed and looked like they had been for a long time. A table lamp crowned one part of the floor and an enormous pile of what looked like liquor bottles rounded off another. Yakko briefly thought back to he and Bab's apartment, which sported clean, new furniture and an airy brightness to all the rooms. He followed Wakko into the kitchen to find pots and pans stacked unceremoniously near the sink, some clean and some encrusted with unidentifiable food. Numerous ashtrays, all full to the hilt, were scattered around the room and half empty gin and whiskey bottles were strewn on the surfaces of the room. Wakko lit another cigarette and puffed heavily.

"Welcome to Paradise," he said gruffly. "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."

For once in his life, Yakko was at a loss for words, so instead he, too, grabbed a cigarette and began to puff, if only so he did not have to speak. As his eyes continued to scan the room, his gaze fell on a small figure crouched in the corner, playing with what looked like a rubber band by wrapping it around its small finger over and over again. Yakko continued to watch, half-interested, until he realized the kid looked just like him. "Wakko? Is that your son?" he said, pointing to the small form.

Wakko, by this time, had poured himself an old fashioned. He crushed the orange slice and cherry deep into his glass and nodded without looking up. "That's him."

Almost excitedly, Yakko walked over to the child and said loudly, "Hey kiddo! I'm your uncle Yakko!" He waited for some response. When he got none, Yakko tried another route. "Hey kid – cat got your tongue? Don'tcha want to meet your own uncle?" Still, Harpo did not look up. Confused, Yakko looked back at him brother. "What's the matter? He deaf?"

"No," Wakko said simply, still not looking up from his drink.

Yakko sat down next to the little boy and tried to catch his eye, but Harpo's gaze did not leave the rubber band he patiently wound and unwound from his index finger. Yakko watched him for a while, then finally put his hand over the little boy's hand to see what he would do. Finally, Harpo looked up at him with a surprised look on his face. Yakko smiled. "Hi Harpo. I'm Yakko." Yakko took Harpo's hand and shook it gently. "I've been waiting a long time to meet you."

"Don't bother. He can't understand what you're saying anyway," Wakko called from the corner.

Yakko looked over at him. "How can you tell?"

"Because he never fucking does anything. He just _sits _there."

Yakko stood up. "Well haven't you ever gotten him _tested _for anything? Maybe he's autistic, maybe it's some sort of developmental handicap or something! Maybe you could do something to help him!" Yakko laughed humorlessly, angry more than anything else. "I mean, he's _five, _Wakko, and he can't talk or do anything, _something _must be wrong! Haven't you done anything about it?"

"_What _would I do about it?" Wakko growled, spinning around to meet his brother's gaze. "Where you come from Yakko – there are doctors who could help. There are hospitals that could help. You and Babs have money, we don't! We don't have money for doctors! Even if we did, what doctor would help us! We're _toons!" _

Yakko felt stung. There was that toon injustice thing again.

"Who the hell cares about some little toon around here, huh? Maybe it's different in Toontown, but around here, all we're good for is the work no human wants to do! We're just the manual labor, and there's enough of us that no human has to care about _one little toon _that can't talk or walk or do anything! It's just one less toon to worry about mouthing off to a human, or causing a human any trouble!"

"Wakko, you might be right, but Toontown hospitals are only three hours away! If you really wanted to help your son, you could at least take him there for doctors to run a few tests!"

"Oh, yeah, right, because we're just _rolling _in the money here, aren't we, brother?"

"Maybe you would be, if you didn't spend all your money on alcohol! I mean, _look _at this place! You can't be spending it on home décor! And those big piles of empty bottles tell a story, don't they?" Yakko yelled across the room. Beneath him, Harpo flinched and looked the other way. "This isn't just something you can make excuses about!"

"Who the _hell _do you think you are, anyway? I mean, _Christ, _you walk back into my life an hour ago and now you're telling me how to raise my son! I'm _glad _Dot and I haven't spoken to you in so long – _this _is exactly why!"

"I'm telling you this because I'm still your brother! I'm still your brother who cares about your well-being, and your family's well being!"

"_What _family have I got?" Wakko roared, throwing his glass against the wall. Yakko cringed at the shattering sound. "A brother and a sister I haven't spoken to in ten years, a girlfriend who hates me and a kid who can't talk? What the hell kind of family is that?"

"If that's the way you really felt, you would have left a long time ago," Yakko said quietly.

Wakko didn't reply for a long moment, mulling over what Yakko had said. He had often thought about just packing up and leaving one night, never to return. But something always stopped him. It wasn't any well-intentioned feeling – it was pure, simple fear of the unknown. "Don't think it's out of any noble thoughts, Yakko. The only reason I stayed is because I don't know any other way now. It's been this way so long, I don't know what else there is."

"Then let me help," Yakko said, walking towards his brother. "Come back with me to Toontown, you can stay with Babs and I as long as you want, we'll get Harpo into the doctor's – "

"Has it ever occurred to you that someone might not want anything to do with you?" Wakko spat. "I don't want your help. I don't want your pity. I certainly don't want your advice. I want you to leave. Right now."

The door suddenly flew open and Constance stood in the doorway, looking frightened. "Wakko – Greenblatt says if we don't have that rent to him in an hour, he's callin' the cops and kickin' us out." She put her hand to her mouth, looking more vulnerable than Wakko had ever seen her. "What're we going to do? We got no where to go! We'll be in an alleyway by sundown, Wakko, you gotta do something!"

Perhaps both out of the fact that Wakko wanted to scare his brother enough to leave him alone and because he just didn't care anymore, Wakko immediately made up his mind what to do. He ran to the couch, plunged his hand in between the cushions and brought out a .35mm handgun. From under the couch he drew a couple of extra magazine cartridges and started to lock and load.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Yakko cried. The situation had just gotten much, much stranger for the older brother. "What the hell, Wakko? Why've you got a gun? What're you going to do?" Yakko plunged towards him, but Wakko ducked out of the way.

"I _told _you to leave," he said in a dangerous tone. "You don't want to be a part of this. Get out of here."

"What're you going to do?" Yakko said again, in a much weaker voice. "Please, Wakko, don't do anything stupid, we can work this out! How much do you need? Let me just give you the rent money – "

"I don't want _anything _from you!" he growled as he snatched up Harpo gruffly. Harpo let out a wail. "I want you _out!" _

"What're you going to do with Harpo?"

"Give me your keys."

"What're you going to do?"

"I don't have any choice. Give them to me."

Before Yakko could protest, Wakko had grabbed the keys hanging from Yakko's belt loop and bolted to the car, Constance and Yakko in tow. Wakko didn't realize until a few seconds later that his brother was in the backseat, holding tightly onto Harpo. "Get out!" Wakko yelled back to him. "Believe me, I _don't _want you a part of this!"

"We're brothers!" Yakko yelled over the wind roaring past all of them in the convertible. "We're gotta stick together!"

Wakko screamed in frustration. "Fine! But just stay out of my way, all right!" The car skidded to a stop in front of the only liquor store in town and the full realization of what Wakko was about to do hit Yakko.

"Wait a minute! It doesn't have to be like this!" Yakko cried as he watched Wakko grab Harpo out of the backseat.

"Stay here," Wakko ordered, as if Yakko hadn't spoken at all.

"What are you doing with him?" Yakko asked, pointing to Harpo.

"Sometimes these things get complicated. It's best to have a hostage along, if it turns out you need one," he rattled off, sounding uninterested. He motioned to Constance in the front seat. "Get ready, babe. When I get out, you step on it, all right?"

Constance slid into the driver's seat. "Got it."

Comprehension dawned on Yakko. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

Wakko said nothing but exchanged a quick look with his brother. _This is why his wages are being garnished, _Yakko thought. _He's done it and gotten caught before. _

By the time this thought entered Yakko's mind, Wakko had already darted into the store, holding Harpo firmly by the back of the neck, and screamed at the owner, whom he knew so well, to hand over all the cash he had. "Come on, man, I'm not fucking around!" Wakko yelled, shakily pointing the gun at his friend while Harpo struggled to get away. Instead of handing over the money, Wakko watched as the owner hit a small button on the floor. A loud shriek filled the air as the store alarm went off. The liquor store owner stood stone-like behind the counter as if daring Wakko to do as he threatened.

Wakko hesitated a moment, knowing full well that however badly he needed money, he would never be able to shoot anyone. He growled in frustration at his own perceived weakness, dropped Harpo, and ran behind the counter, bashing the cash register with the butt of his gun until the cash drawer gave and burst open. Wakko looked up at the owner, who stood next to him but did nothing, only continued to stare icily at Wakko. Not having time to feel guilt, Wakko grabbed all the money he could easily hold in one fist from the drawer then jumped over the counter. Wakko looked back over his shoulder and gave the owner a tired look. "I'm sorry," Wakko said softly. The owner shook his head and looked away.

Wakko shot back out to the car and jumped over the side just as Constance began to speed away. The three in the car could hear the sirens beginning to loom up over the horizon and Constance instinctively pressed down harder on the accelerator. As Wakko turned back around to the front, he realized someone was missing.

"Harpo!" Wakko yelled. "We have to go back for him!"

"Are fucking _crazy?_" Constance screamed at him from the front seat. "As soon as we go back, we'll be swamped with twenty police cars! Leave him!"

"We can't!" Wakko was beginning to panic at the thought of his son being left alone. "We _can't _leave him!" he bellowed again. "They'll take him away from me! I'll never see him again!"

"So the hell what? One less mouth to feed!"

But Wakko wasn't listening. Instead, he was poised on the trunk of the car, ready to leap off. He looked back at Constance with pain in his eyes. "I can't leave my son. I'm the only one who understands him. He needs me." Wakko paused. "And I need him. I _won't _leave Harpo!" With that, he leapt off the back of the speeding car.

"Jesus! This morning he couldn't stand the sight of Harpo, now he wants to go back into a rat's nest of cops!" Constance muttered to herself.

Meanwhile, Yakko had his head in his hands, thinking hard. _Oh God, I'm one of Toontown's best lawyers, and here I am involved in a liquor store heist. Christ! They're even using my car as a get-away car! Wait 'til the media gets a hold of this! I'm ruined! _Yakko suddenly stopped and recognized this feeling. It was the exact same feeling he'd had the night that Wakko was being taken in for the umpteenth time on a drunk and disorderly. It was the night Yakko abandoned him. It was the night that had caused Yakko to not see his brother for the next six years. _I already made that mistake once, _Yakko thought as he suddenly stood up and positioned himself to jump. _Reputation or no, some things are more important. _

Constance felt the other presence in the car jump and sighed. "Fuck them," she muttered, realizing she had a nice convertible and a full tank of gas at her disposal. Not only that, she had no house, no boyfriend to worry about (because she _knew _Wakko would just end up in the slammer again) and hey, no one could _prove _that mangy little kid was hers, could they? She gunned the car even harder. She would get out of this stinking town and build a life elsewhere. She smiled darkly to herself. It was time for Constance to get out the hell out of Alballa once and for all.

Yakko felt like his lungs would explode as he ran as hard as he could all the way back to the liquor store. He saw a flash of blue behind a house nearby, and instantly recognized it as Wakko's uniform. Yakko cut through the front yard and found Wakko frantically searching everywhere for some sign of his son. Wakko looked up to see his brother jogging towards him.

"What're you doing?" Wakko screamed. "You're going to get busted!"

"Then we'll get busted together!" Yakko panted as he put his hand on Wakko's shoulder and looked in his eyes. "I'm not going to leave you again."

A shiver in the bushes ahead of them sent Wakko flying into the brush, and came out a moment later holding Harpo in his arms. He lifted Harpo into the air and smiled. "I thought I'd lost you, buddy!" he said with relief. Harpo, for the first time in many months, let shine a brilliant smile that made Wakko laugh in delight. "I found you!" Wakko held him close. "And I won't _ever _leave you again..."

Suddenly a thick arm dressed in blue shot through the fence and grabbed hold of Wakko's clothes. Yakko immediately recognized the three lines on the sleeve as police insignia and grabbed Wakko's arm. "Run for it!" he hissed, trying to drag Wakko away from the spot.

"No," Wakko said resolutely, setting Harpo down. "They'd come for all of us then." Wakko took the gun out of his pocket and laid it gently on the ground in front of him as three officers emerged from behind the fence. "These two had nothing to do with it, officers," Wakko said calmly, not breaking his gaze with Yakko. "You can ask the owner. It was just me."

"Sounds like a confession to me," one of the officers said, gruffly turning Wakko around and placing him in handcuffs. Wakko gently pushed Harpo in the direction of Yakko with his knee. Yakko grabbed hold of the little boy's hand.

"If you need a good lawyer, Wakko," Yakko said, picking Harpo up and holding him close, "then I could recommend a few good ones who owe me a favor and would work cheap…"


	6. 6

A/N: Thanks for the reviews so far. More is to come from this. Dot's story is up next.

Instinctively Yakko knew that both Constance and his red convertible were gone for good, so with Harpo in tow Yakko spent the night in the police station, doing his best to catch a few hours sleep on the hard, uncomfortable plastic chairs in the lobby, waiting to see his brother. Sunlight started to filter in through the cracked blinds at about six o'clock, and Yakko obtained some breakfast from the vending machines down the hall: a candy bar and hot, strong coffee for him, some doughnuts and apple juice for Harpo.

When he hadn't been fitfully trying to sleep, Yakko had spent a good portion of the night observing Harpo. Harpo, for his part, had spent the night sitting straight up, looking all around him with a curiosity that was familiar to Yakko, because he himself possessed it. Every once in a while Harpo would steal a furtive glance up at his uncle, but would quickly look away when Yakko met his gaze. Yakko could tell that Harpo was taking all this new information in and processing it. He couldn't imagine why Wakko thought that Harpo was stupid; those bright, quick eyes spoke differently.

Yakko laid the doughnuts and the can of apple juice down next to Harpo on the floor, and sat down on the chairs. He noticed that Harpo was watching him, but this time Yakko was careful not to look down at the boy and thereby break the stare. Yakko suddenly realized that Harpo's small hands were clutching the pack of doughnuts, unsure of how to open it, and he was watching his uncle in order to learn. Yakko slowly and deliberately opened his candy wrapper and watched from the corner of his eye as Harpo painstakingly repeated Yakko's action with his doughnut pack. A small smile passed Harpo's face as he watched the doughnuts miraculously appear for his taking as the wrapper slid off from his simple action. Harpo looked up at Yakko once more, and this time their gaze met and held for a few seconds, until Harpo slowly raised the food to his mouth and began to eat.

Of course, Yakko didn't know that these simple actions were entirely new to the little boy, and went along eating and drinking his coffee quickly due to his hunger. Harpo seemed to linger over his meal for a while, but dutifully finished it all, having not spilled a drop or a crumb. Yakko stretched and looked up at the clock: 6:30. When would he be able to see Wakko?

"Stay here," he commanded Harpo gently, lifting him up and placing him on a seat. "I'll be right back."

Yakko made his way over to a pay phone in the lobby, knowing that Babs would be getting up for work about now. He dialed the number quickly and had never been more relieved to hear Babs' cranky, sleepy morning tone.

"What?" she asked flatly as a greeting.

"It's me."

"Yakko! Thank God. Where were you last night?"

"I was in the Alballa police station."

A pause. "Why?"

"Wakko got himself into some trouble, involving a gun, a liquor store, and some demands that the owner didn't take too kindly to. By the way, our convertible is no more."

"Sounds like an exciting day. I guess the meeting didn't go over so well, hm?"

"I guess you could say I've had smoother encounters. Look, Babs…" Yakko glanced over at Harpo, who was absorbed in the wonders of the cloth on the armrest. "My brother's a mess. So is his life. Look, I don't know how this is all going to turn out. I want you to be here." Yakko sighed and said softly, "Babe, I'm scared for him."

There was silence on the other end that lasted so long that Yakko thought the call had been dropped. Finally, Babs said quickly, "Honey, I've already got my coat on. I'll be there in a couple of hours. Sit tight, babe."

Yakko hung up and felt his stomach rumble. It occurred to him that neither he nor Harpo had had any lunch or dinner the previous day. No wonder he was so hungry. A candy bar and a cup of coffee wasn't going to do it for him. "C'mon, little guy," Yakko said gently to Harpo. "Let's go get a real breakfast, hm?"

There was one greasy spoon open on the far corner of the town, and this is where he and Harpo walked to from the police station. Silence met them at the door, as all other occupants turned to stare at the two. Yakko guessed he was probably the only guest in town at the moment, but ignored the stares and sat he and Harpo down at a table in the back of the restaurant. A haggard old woman gave them two menus and a dirty look. Yakko smiled as best he could, but made faces at the lady's back. Much to Yakko's surprise, Harpo giggled softly under his breath. Encouraged, Yakko licked his spoon and placed it on the end of his nose, crossing his eyes and grinning. Harpo giggled again, this time louder. If it hadn't been for the grouchy looks he was getting, Yakko would have continued – it felt good to have someone laugh at his antics again.

Eight o'clock saw Yakko and Harpo entering the police station again, and saw a worried looking Babs catch sight of them.

"There you are!" she said, throwing her arms around Yakko. "I was worried when you weren't here."

"How the heck did you get all the way from Toontown to Alballa in an hour and a half?" asked a dumbfounded Yakko.

"Baby, when someone I love needs me, speed limits cease to matter." Babs finally saw Harpo standing silently at Yakko's feet. She smiled. "Is this Charles?"

"Harpo," Yakko corrected her. "He doesn't speak."

"Hi Harpo," Babs said, kneeling before him. "Nice to meet you. I'm Babs."

A door on the side of the room suddenly flew open to reveal a stout officer who immediately shot Yakko an incriminating look. "You Warner's brother?" the officer said gruffly. Yakko nodded. "Come on, you can see him now."

Yakko and Harpo, leaving Babs in the lobby, followed the stocky officer to a viewing room and left them there. A moment later, Wakko was lead through a door by two officers. He was wearing something similar to his factory uniform, but instead of 'Alballa Manufacturing' stamped on the back, this one read 'Alballa Prison.' Yakko did his best at a weak smile.

"Hey buddy. Long night?" he said to his handcuffed brother standing before him.

"I've had worse," Wakko said, shifting uncomfortably. He looked away. "Look…I'm going to be here for a while. They've got me on a lot." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Yakko."

"For what?" Yakko asked softly.

"For everything. I'm sorry I wasn't the brother you wanted. I'm sorry I got you into this. You were right. About not taking responsibility for myself or my actions. This is my fault."

"But I shouldn't have turned my back on you," Yakko said. "No matter what you've done, you're still my little brother. I still love you."

Wakko smiled but didn't meet his brother's gaze. "Thanks," he said simply.

"If you want, I could try to pull some strings. I could get you out of here by tomorrow. Look buddy, we can pull through this, I can – "

"Don't," Wakko said sharply, looking up. "I got myself into this. I have a feeling its all for the best. I can't keep relying on other people to get me out of trouble that I've created for myself. Maybe its time I had a wake up call." Wakko looked down at Harpo. "I'm sorry I dragged him into this too," he said, nodding down to his son. "He's innocent. Look Yakko, you probably think I'm a horrible father…and maybe I am…but I only want the best for him. I didn't realize it until yesterday, but he means a lot to me. I hate myself for the life I've given him so far."

"So let me get you out of here! I know some good lawyers who work in this county, I promise, I'll work night and day – "

"No!" Wakko growled. "I need to teach my son this lesson. I need to own up to the things I've done; I wouldn't be able to look Harpo in the eye if I didn't. I want to show him that even though his father has done bad things, he wants to make up for them. I need to show him how to do what's right. _This _is the right thing to do. Understand?"

Yakko was speechless at the fact that the same person standing in front of him now was the same person who only sixteen hours ago had been holding a gun to his son's head and risking all of their lives in a robbery. He suddenly felt very proud of his brother; finally, Wakko was doing the right thing. "All right, little bro. You do what you need to do."

They both simultaneously looked down at Harpo, who continued to stare up at his father. Wakko looked up at Yakko, and an unspoken agreement passed between them. Yakko put his hand on Harpo's shoulder. Wakko smiled in relief.

"Thank you, Yakko," he said quietly.

"Two minutes!" an officer called gruffly from the corner.

Wakko sighed and sank to his knees in front of Harpo. "I've got to go away for a while, ok Harpo? Your uncle Yakko will take good care of you. For once you'll be in a place where you'll always be warm and always get plenty to eat. Be good. Make me proud." He bit his lip, and struggled to maintain eye contact with the serious little boy still looking him deep in the eye. "Goodbye son," he whispered. Wakko planted a kiss on Harpo's forehead. "I love you, buddy, and I'll come back for you," he whispered.

Harpo took his small hand and laid it on his father's cheek. "Love you too, Daddy," he said softly, in a perfectly articulated voice.

A guard pulled an awestruck Wakko to his feet. "All right, you've said your goodbyes. Let's go," the guard said in a gravely voice. Wakko soon disappeared behind the steel door he'd come in, leaving Yakko and Harpo alone in the room. Both were silent and still for a good minute before Yakko felt his hand being gently entwined with Harpo's fingers. He looked down at the little boy, who smiled back up at him.

"Ready to go," he said in a matter-of-fact voice. Yakko smiled as they made their way out to the lobby to catch a ride back home.


	7. 7

**A/N: **I _hate _author's notes because they are usually full of worthless information, but I wanted to say a few things so I will keep this short. Firstly, thanks to those who reviewed. Second, there is a simple reason for the "rest" of the cast not being in this story: I don't wanna. Third, the world that I've created here is a world where toon shows are just that – shows. The show may or may not reflect who the toon actually is in his/her regular life; everybody has to have a day job. Thus, though some toons may have "been" with certain people in their shows, it doesn't necessarily mean that they will be _outside _of world. Now, that's just me. Every author has a different take on this, and that's what makes fiction so goddamned fun. Word.

Oh, and I _do _promise Dot will come in eventually, probably within the next couple of chapters. People, that's going to be some fun. I'm telling ya now. By the way, "Hot Chicken Sex" is a good name for a rock band.

Babs was surprised how quickly she and Yakko adjusted to life with a five year old boy. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but she sure hadn't been expecting the one thing they found with the addition of Harpo to their household: peace. Babs watched with a mixture of amusement and awe at how Yakko seemed to switch effortlessly from a veteran toon lawyer to a father figure so easily at the end of the day, and hadn't even known he'd possessed the ability to do so. She had to keep reminding herself that this was the same toon who used to infuriate police officers with clever word play, risking arrest, just to make her laugh, and who once stopped all traffic in downtown Los Angeles just to climb on top of a taxi cab and yell through a megaphone that he loved her in front of the angry mob of drivers.

Yakko, on the other hand, was having the time of his life with his nephew and didn't spend too much time thinking about the how's and why's of he and Babs' sudden transformations. Neither he nor Babs had ever talked about or even privately considered having children, so it was interesting for him to observe the changes that went on in all of them. For his part, Yakko noticed for the first time in his career that he anxiously awaited the end of the work day just so he could get home to Harpo. He loved telling his nephew stories, showing him card tricks, or just goofing around with him all evening. Babs, always a big fan of any kind of music, found an avid listener and learner in Harpo, who couldn't seem to get enough of Babs' vinyl and CD collection (which seemed endless to the little boy), constantly bouncing up to her with another record or CD outstretched up to her in his hands, silently demanding music flow through the house constantly. Harpo was fascinated with the voice of Janis Joplin and couldn't get enough of the early work of Elvis. From watching Yakko and Babs dance in the kitchen to anything from The Beatles to Bob Marley, Harpo began to dance along with them, moving his little body to whatever beat he heard coming from the stereo. He loved it when Babs would take hold of his small hands and guide him through a few songs until his Uncle Yakko would saddle up between them, and, making like he was going to cut in to dance with Babs say, "Sorry little man, this song is mine!" and then take Harpo, not Babs, for a few spins around the kitchen.

From years of being young go-getters in the toon law world who despised days off for not getting anything done, both Babs and Yakko had saved up some significant vacation time and were now taking their full allotment of it for spontaneous days off taking Harpo to the beach or to the movie theater in downtown Toontown that only showed old comedy movies made before 1945. Harpo had fallen in love with the old flickering images on the screen, and demanded quite vehemently that they go to see every Laurel and Hardy short played at the theater, regardless of show time, and that Yakko and Babs take him to see the infamous steps in _The Music Box, _which, much to everyone's chagrin, were a broken-down shadow of what they were in the 30's. One Monday afternoon in May, Harpo finally got to see his namesake in action in _Animal Crackers _and had nearly burst for pride of his name. Yakko and Babs, being the vibrant extroverts that they were, had lots of friends in various places and it was not unusual to see a five year old toon sitting with a good looking couple in Toontown jazz bars late into the night, especially if someone was doing a Theolonius Monk or Bessie Smith set that night on stage. Harpo would and did listen to everything, but inexplicably the Beach Boys became his favorite and he would sing them to himself in the bathtub, much to the amusement of Yakko and Babs.

Harpo had changed as well, though not so much as to be unrecognizable. Though he was able to speak now, he only spoke when he truly had something to say instead of talking simply for the sake of talking, which was something he'd noticed was common in Toontown. Growing up in the small and dingy community that he had, Toontown had seemed like a magical world full of colorful people and vibrant life. Yakko and Babs seemed like giants to him, both in terms of size and personality, and he was awed with the kind of people they knew and who they would introduce him to. The parties that Yakko and Babs would throw were a varied smorgasbord of Toontown's intellectual and comedic elite, and they all wanted to meet the little boy that Toontown's best lawyers thought the world of. He laughed at his uncle's jokes and felt safe in the arms of his almost-aunt, and only thought of the lonely and sad life he'd left behind in Alballa when he would let his mind wander late at night.

One night as Babs was reading him Antoine de Saint-Exupery's _The Little Prince, _which had become his favorite book and what he wanted to read every night, Harpo screwed up his eyes tightly as he always did when he was about to say something he'd been wanting to say for a while. Babs caught this and halted her reading, waiting patiently as she usually had to when Harpo wanted to say something: he was not a talker, and each word that left his mouth carried meaning to it. Both she and Yakko had learned to always listen when Harpo talked, because he was usually saying something important. "Aunt Babs…" he started, still with his eyes closed. "Aunt Babs…are you my mother?"

Babs looked steadily at the little boy. "No, Harpo. I'm not. Don't you remember your mother?"

"It's all so fuzzy. I remember one lady. She yelled a lot and smelled like the cabinet under the sink. I guess that was her." Harpo looked up at Babs with big eyes. "But I can't remember much."

Though it had been six months, Babs was alarmed that Harpo was starting to forget his past so quickly. "What else do you remember from that time?"

"I remember…I remember there were lots of bottles. And the TV was always on. It wasn't like our house, Aunt Babs. We didn't laugh or dance or anything! I think I slept a lot."

"What else?" Babs whispered.

Yakko had overheard part of their conversation, and came in Harpo's room quietly and sat down on a chair in the corner. He smiled at Harpo encouragingly, who looked back at him with watery eyes. Neither Babs nor Yakko had ever prodded Harpo about his past, knowing that sooner or later they would have to answer some hard questions anyway. Perhaps this was the start of it. "Do you remember your dad?" he asked quietly. Harpo detected pain in his uncle's voice.

"Yeah!" Harpo's eyes lit up, but his shoulders quickly sunk as memories came back to him. Yelling. Lots of yelling. His father drinking that smelly stuff out of clear glass bottles. That tired look in everyone's eyes. The blue uniform that smelled like cigarettes. His father crying sometimes when he didn't think anyone saw him. Harpo swallowed hard. "But he got mad a lot. I think he was sad about something. Maybe about me. He got mad when I wouldn't talk for him."

"Why didn't you talk, Harpo?" The words tumbled out of Babs' mouth before she could stop them.

Harpo didn't move or say anything for a few moments, instead thinking intently. He clasped and unclasped his hands slowly, as if meditating on the question and going

over the answer in his head carefully before letting the words fall from his mouth. "I didn't want to," he whispered quietly.

"Why not?" Harpo shot Yakko a sharp glance, which made Yakko flinch a bit. He hadn't meant to hurt him. "I'm sorry, guy. You don't ever have to tell us if you don't want to. That's a reason you can keep for yourself forever. You never have to tell a soul; it's yours. Babs and I won't ask again, and we're not going to love you any less if you don't tell us."

Internally, Harpo was torn. He wanted to tell his aunt and uncle because they meant so much to him, but not even he fully understood why he had never talked. Words came slowly now, and Harpo found he had to concentrate very hard to explain himself. "See…back when I lived in the dark house…there were so many people. They were never the same. None of them thought I could understand what they were saying or doing…but I could…but since that's what they thought, they never…they never acted like I could…so I never said anything. I didn't know that I could…that I could…" Words were impossible to form in his mind, and although his aunt and uncle were listening intently, Harpo found that expressing himself was difficult now. The emotions he was feeling were different from the words he knew. They were more complicated than he had the vocabulary for. Tears started to drip down his cheek, both for his frustrations and because of the memories of that time. "There is so much that I don't understand about that time…I wish…I wish it wasn't like that. Everyone was very sad about everything and…and talking didn't make any difference…Daddy thought I didn't know things, that I didn't understand because I couldn't say them…but sometimes I understood, and it made me sad that he was sad. I was so sad that…I guess I didn't say anything…but I didn't mean to hurt him…I didn't mean to hurt – " By this time the small boy on the bed couldn't stop the sobs from coming even if he tried, and before he knew it his aunt and uncle's arms were wrapped tightly around him. He felt their warmth against his body and felt his tears soaking into their clothes. It occurred to him that he'd never cried before.

The three of them sat for a long time holding tightly onto one another until they heard Harpo whisper in a voice barely above a whisper, "Please don't ever leave me…promise we'll be together…please? Promise."

"It's a promise, buddy," Yakko said softly, giving Harpo a little squeeze.

"We'll always be right here," Babs said gently, smoothing Harpo's small tuft of hair. She kissed him tenderly on the top of his head. "We're never going to leave you."

"Don't leave me like they did," Harpo whispered again, clenching the two adults' now dampened shirts tightly in his small fists. He heaved a shaky sigh. "I wish you were my parents," he said in a small voice.

Yakko loosened his hold on Harpo slightly. "Don't say that," he said, his voice brimming with emotion. "Don't _ever _say that." Babs shot him a smoldering glance as Harpo looked up at his uncle in surprise. Yakko held Harpo's small form in the air, looking up at him. This time it was Yakko's eyes that were watering. "Your father is a good person, Harpo. My brother is not a bad person. He's made some bad decisions, Harpo, but he loves you. He loves you so much, buddy, and he'll be back for you someday! He promised!"

"NO!" Harpo screamed in terror to the shock of Yakko and Babs. "Don't make me go back there! Please, Uncle Yakko! Please, don't make me go back to the dark house! I don't _ever _want to go back there!" A fresh chorus of tears cascaded down the small boy's face as he struggled away from his uncle. Harpo took off down the steps and opened the front door, shooting outside like a bullet, with Yakko close on his heels, running as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Harpo! Come back here!" Yakko yelled, praying he could get to Harpo faster than Harpo could get to the busy street near their house.

Harpo, little as he was, could run fast and unnoticed in the dark. He shot through bushes and hedges, weaving in and out of lawns, setting off security lights as dogs barked frantically in the background. He didn't know where he was going, but at the mention of his father coming to take him back to his old life Harpo was too petrified to do anything _but _run. He slowed to a stop only when he ceased to hear his uncle crashing through the bushes close behind him. Harpo panted heavily, hands on his knees, tears still stinging his eyes. Lights filtered through the tears hazily, creating a bleary effect. Finally, annoyed at the lights' presence disrupting his short rest, Harpo looked to his left and realization flashed: those were car head lights and he was standing in the middle of the street.

Just as Harpo scrunched his eyes shut, preparing himself to be hit by three thousand pounds of steel in traction, he felt a strong hand grab the back of his overalls and pull him to the curb. He collapsed on top of Yakko, who threw his arms around the small figure. "That was _too _close!" he cried after a moment, rocking Harpo back and forth on the grimy curb. Harpo, shaking but unhurt, wrapped his arms around his uncle's neck. "Don't _ever _do that to me again, Harpo!" Yakko pulled him away to look at him in the eyes. "You and your aunt mean more to me than anyone else in this world, and I don't know what I'd do without either one of you. Don't make me find out. Ok?" Harpo nodded numbly. Yakko breathed a sigh of relief. "Harpo…" he panted. "I will _never _make you go back to that house. I don't want you to go back there any more than you do. But that house…that _life…_that was _not _who your father is." Yakko patted Harpo on the shoulder and nodded to him.

"I promise, Harpo: I'm going to show you _exactly _who and what your father is…"


	8. 8

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**A/N **The story of the is not real, but things like it really happen. This chapter is kind of long, but since we haven't seen Dot before this I think an explanation of her past and whereabouts is in order. This is a different portrayal of Dot than what (I think) people will be expecting, but I always saw her as more tough-minded and independent than she was given credit for, and I've played off of this. This is the first time I've felt this way since I started this story, but – I hope everyone understands it and enjoys it. The reason the updates have been slow is because I've got several complete chapters written but I'm still working on the chronology. Once I figure out what order they should be in, there will be several updates within a short amount of time. By the way, if you buy a 60ft 1972 McGruer for five thousand dollars, you either just got the best deal on earth or it'll blow up the minute you turn it on.

* * *

"Come hear Uncle John's band…by the riverside…" Dot sang lazily, strumming her beat up acoustic guitar, her floppy hat shielding her eyes from the intense tropical sun and swinging gently in her rope hammock. "Got some things to talk about…here beside the rising tide…"

"Dot?" a voice came from behind her. "We got a problem with the cistern – "

"Ssh!" Dot hissed, trying not to break her concentration. The switch from a D chord to a C one with any sort of speed or accuracy had been a problem that Dot had been tackling all week to no avail. She gave it one last try and her fingers fumbled again, producing a rattling sound when her right hand struck the strings. "God_dammit,_" she muttered, dropping the old guitar over the side of hammock. "I swear to god, I've never appreciated Jerry Garcia's musical ability more than I do right now. Ok, what is it, Red?"

"The guests are complaining. When they turn on their showerheads, nothing comes out. We had a full cistern yesterday because of all that rain, so when I went to check on it, sure enough it was all gone. Dot, we got a big leak – all our water is gone – and what the hell are we going to do?" Red ran a hand through his hair. "The water boat ain't gonna be back for two weeks, and we ain't got enough money to buy more anyway."

"…once in a while you get shown the light in the strangest places if you look at it right…" Dot sang, again cradling the guitar and strumming softly, keeping her eye out on the horizon.

"Dot? What should we do?"

"…I had to learn the hard way just to let her pass by…"

"Dot! Boss, this is serious! All our guests are gonna be leavin'!"

"Let 'em leave, Red. I got bigger fish to fry," Dot said, sliding off the hammock and handing the guitar to Red. "Be glad to have them gone, actually." She grabbed a Red Stripe from the bar's small fridge and took a long sip, enjoying the iciness of drink. "They make all kinds of noise at night when I'm trying to work."

"Work? What work? Boss, we ain't been pulling a profit in close to six months, we're about to get shut down by immigration 'cause you got three illegal immigrants pushing cleaning carts around, and we're _out of water. _What work have you been doing?"

"Jesus, calm down Red. You're in the Caribbean. Just relax. Things down here don't work the same way they do in Galveston Bay. We're _all _illegal immigrants, Red, this isthe _islands. _No one important has ever heard of this island, that's why folks come here – a little anonymity goes a long way, yeah? I don't know where you think you are, bud, but you're on Little Trouble Island, and we got our _own _set of rules." Dot swallowed the rest of her drink and slammed the can down on the bar. She pulled a few crumpled pieces of paper from under the bar and smoothed them out on the surface, beckoning Red towards her. "Won these in a poker game with Jack Trapper last week. He'd held onto these papers for nearly eight years out of the hope of something that never came to be, and finally gave them up to me when I beat him. He laughed and said he hadn't lost anything, and all I said was, 'Just wait, buddy.' This is going to be sweet."

Red looked down at all of the water damaged papers. They seemed to be maps of some kind with various X's and red marks covering them. He shrugged. "I don't get it. What's so important about these?"

"These papers are going to lead me to the _Charlotte._" Dot, still sweating, grabbed another Jamaican lager and held it to her forehead. She lowered her voice and scrunched up her eyes. "Look Red, you're my friend and confidant so I'm going to tell you. I made a little investment last year when Billy Thomas was arrested in Nassau for thieving a boat from some hot-shot movie director who watched movies more closely than he watched his personal property. Billy landed a 60ft, 1972 McGruer and got halfway to Key West before Mr. Director even noticed it was gone and radioed the police. Billy Thomas was no fool and so he stopped on Looe Key, bought some paint and painted green sharks all over the hull of his new possession, taking off all identification numbers and making a few minor adjustments to engines and such, just enough to be able to prove to the cops that it wasn't the same boat they were looking for. I happened to hear about it when I was in the Tortugas and made my way over to see his handiwork; I saw my opportunity, Red, and I took it. Hell, they _knew _Billy took it even back in Nassau! All they had to do was find Billy!

I told him I'd pay him five grand in cash, no questions asked, and he could blow it all on hookers and tequila sunrises the week before his court appearance. He took me up on it. He's sitting in a jail cell somewhere in Miami now but the _Green Shark _is going to find the _Charlotte, _sure as I'm standing here now. And some director in the Bahamas is _still _missing his McGruer."

Red wiped the sweat from his brow. "What's that got to do with a little hotel in the Caribbean without water like ours?"

"Luck and fate come in all forms, Red. Look, for years I was a star in Toontown but when they dropped me like a ton of bricks, I learned something: always be on the lookout for potential opportunity, even if it doesn't _look _like opportunity. Why else would I buy a thinly disguised, _wanted _vessel with two measly 55hp diesel engines, hm? Opportunity. The _Charlotte _was a pirate ship that sank somewhere around here in 1718 with today's equivalent of hundreds of millions of dollars. It was commandeered by an English naval-officer-turned-pirate named Bryant Smith when his own ship ran around the shoals south of Key Largo. The original crew of the _Charlotte_ saw the survivors and stopped out of the goodness of their hearts, only to have every person on the ship have their gullet ripped out like a fish by the pirates on the shoal. The _Charlotte _terrorized the Indies for years until a storm in 1718 downed her." Dot shook the maps she'd gotten from Jack Trapper. "A Spanish vessel saw the whole sinking happen and the cartographers recorded it all down on charts, and _these _are the only surviving copies of those charts. Once I find the _Charlotte, _we'll never have to worry about water or anything else ever again."

"So I'm coming along with you, huh?" Red said with a grin.

"There ain't a person within a hundred miles of here that knows these waters as well as you, Red. Plus I got Scooby coming in as my diver, and he's bringing along a few of his pals to help me out. To make an old McGruer seaworthy? I'm gonna need all the help I can get."

Dot had never really looked at her life in terms of what had happened as good or bad – it just _was _what it _was. _Whether it was God, Fate, or the Devil didn't make too much difference in her mind because so far it'd been quite a ride. When Warner Brothers had shut down production of she and her brothers' TV show, she tried to make it as a once-star toon in Toontown but had learned quickly that what you saw wasn't always what you got in Hollywood, and before she knew it she was barely scraping out a living in tomcat cocktail lounges for forty five dollars and dinner for a set, and the sun didn't seem to be rising on any of her prospects. She'd headed to sea with the first cruise ship she could wrangle her way onto both for the fact that she'd never really seen the ocean up close and because her life of drunken reprobates and drunken brothers was getting dull. She hadn't spoken to her brothers since she left California soil.

Even during her first set that night on the cruise ship Dot Warner knew there were greater things awaiting her in the Caribbean, and she was determined not to pass by without getting a little of what it might offer her. She abandoned ship at the first stop in Mexico and gradually worked her way east over the continent by either singing or stealing, and sometimes both. She wasn't often recognized, and for the most part it had worked to her advantage. On the show she'd always been written to play an over-the-top cute kid, which didn't mesh too well with the kind of person she considered herself to be – a fiercely independent enterpriser who didn't take shit from _anybody. _She might have had a small body, but she had the mind of a Warner. That was all she needed.

She'd worked her way down the Mexican coast, eventually hitting Belize. Dot had run into some trouble there when she'd gotten caught stealing someone's gold watch from their back pocket to hock it down at the pawn shop for a few bucks. She'd been pursued down to the waterfront, where she managed to jump into an aging speedboat, hotwire it and be half a mile away before the police crews could get themselves assembled for a chase.

She'd landed here, on Little Trouble Island, an out of the way haven for eccentrics and expatriates near the coast of Bonaire in the Dutch West Indies, and had sunk the boat on the shallow shoals lying just off shore. She had arrived like most people had on Little Trouble Island: soaking wet with little more than the clothes on her back, a warrant for her arrest, and a mind that was as sharp as the harpy knife she carried everywhere in her back pocket. Dot had found a good home and made fast friends with the locals.

Dot had learned early on in her Caribbean escapades that if you could fish, play the guitar, or serve drinks you would never be at a loss for a job in the islands. She'd chosen the latter of those occupations and had quickly become the only barkeep at the Island Soul bar and inn worth having. The inn itself was just a jumbled collection of rooms inside a small stucco building painted in bright hues of green and blue by an artist who had drunk himself to death in Havana years earlier. The paint was chipping but the view of the sunset couldn't be matched anywhere else in the Caribbean, and each night a little bit of magic occurred when all the chatter stopped as all eyes in the bar turned to see the last sliver of the sun slink beneath the azure horizon. Dot had always felt a sense of peace right at that moment that she couldn't seem to attain anywhere else in her life. She didn't often think of what she left behind in America, but sometimes in those rare moments of peace memories of her brothers came dimly back to her, like a song she could only just barely remember having heard a long time ago…

Of course, the moments of peace and quiet hadn't kept Lou Bergenstein, the owner of the Island Soul, from betting away his inn to Dot in one heated round of poker. Everyone on the island – everyone in the _Caribbean, _to be more exact – knew that playing poker with Dot Warner when you were betting something she _really _wanted was just asking for it to be taken away. It had all happened so fast that when Lou woke up on the deck of a ship that Dot had sent him away on, he thought it had all been a dream. But the sight of Little Trouble Island fading away on the horizon had showed him, and everyone else on the island, that Dot Warner was used to being in charge.

Red had saved Dot's ass on a number of occasions, including the time she was framed for armed robbery on the island, and the two had become inseparable in all things business. Each knew the other's strengths and weaknesses and were able to play off of them to achieve the best effects for them both. Finding the _Charlotte _was just the next in a long line of adventures for the two.

"So when do we leave?" Red said, lifting the brim of his ballcap up slightly to grin at Dot. He trusted her little schemes because they always seemed to pay off handsomely. "I can smell the treasure already."

"Be patient. I know you're like a shark who smells blood in the water about these kinds of things, but I can assure you it'll be well worth the wait. Give me a few more days. I've got to tie up some affairs here. I've gotta unload this inn on some poor, unsuspecting gringo who's read _Don't Stop the Carnival _one too many times and I got to find a good navigator. What I need you to do is to stock the boat with everything we're going to need. We're going to be gone for a while, Red. Keep that in mind."

"Gladly," Red said, still smiling as he left Dot hunched over her maps and made his way to the town center. As far as islands went, Little Trouble was about the best that someone like him could hope for. No one asked questions about anyone else on Little Trouble – everyone had something to hide, and so privacy was taken seriously. Little Trouble had been the best kept secret in the West Indies for hundreds of years, going back to the time of the pirates in the seventeenth century who needed a place to call home. Red and Dot were just modern day versions thereof.

Red spent the afternoon in town, buying up everything a crew of six would conceivably need for an expedition. He'd never been on a treasure hunt before, but he had a feeling that rum and macaroni and cheese became a person's best friend on an adventure like that. He also bought a few kegs of beer; water didn't stay good on board no matter how carefully it was kept, and since beer is sterile, often times it is much safer to drink than musty water that has been sitting in metal casks for months on end. He grabbed a few other essentials for a treasure salvaging job, most notably a few dozen knives, a dozen guns and enough ammunition to fend off the entire world. The _Green Shark _wasn't pretty, but he knew McGruers were good in the long run and did a complete check of everything on board, making sure all systems were go and would be for a long time. A tool kit, sharp mind and a gun were indispensable in this business.

Meanwhile back at the Island Soul, Dot was leaned over her maps studying them intently. A heavy wind blew up through the bar, rumpling her papers, as a steady stream of water began to pour down from the heavens. Unnoticing, Dot marked one spot on her map with a large red circle. She smiled to herself. "Gotcha," she muttered.


	9. 9

Yakko tapped his fingers impatiently against the kitchen counter with the phone cradled against his shoulder, alternately studying the cooking directions on the back of a box of pasta at the same time as trying to keep an eye on Harpo, who was sitting at the kitchen table finger painting carefully on a large sheet of white paper. Each stroke was deliberate as the crude form of a giraffe began to take shape on the page while Harpo bit his tongue in concentration, making Yakko smile at the uncanny resemblance between Harpo and Wakko. Finally the phone line clicked and Yakko stood straight up.

"Warner archives," a bored voice droned on the other end. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Wendy? This is Yakko Warner."

"Hello, Mr. Warner," Wendy's voice drawled on the other end. Yakko often thought that Wendy Oppenheimer, the film archivist for Warner Brothers Studios, was possibly the only human being on earth who couldn't sound excited about anything even if she tried to be. She'd been around since the 1950's and didn't sound – nor look – much different than she had back then. "What can I do for you today?"

"I need a copy of a few of my shows. Doesn't matter which ones. Just make sure they have some Wakko Warner in them, all right? I'll pick them up tomorrow after five."

"That can be arranged," Wendy said. Yakko could hear her flipping through some papers. "I'll have Danny stick a few reels together and transfer them to a DVD."

"Thanks Wendy." Yakko hung up and sighed. "Well, kiddo, I'm going to have a big surprise for you tomorrow."

Harpo's attention, momentarily drawn away from his artistic endeavors, turned to his uncle. Harpo smiled. "Surprise?"

"Yep! Just you wait and see, buddy."

The DVD was waiting at the front desk of the archives just as he requested the next afternoon when Yakko picked it up on his way home. He smiled his thanks to the intern Danny, gave the star struck kid an autograph, and made his way quickly home. Harpo and Babs were in the kitchen, with Harpo kneading the dough and Babs slicing vegetables on the counter when he arrived home. Seeing his uncle had arrived, Harpo leapt from the stool and into Yakko's arms. "Uncle Yakko!" he cried.

"Hey buddy! Got your surprise." Yakko held up the DVD. "What do you say we give it a watch, hm?"

"What is it?" Harpo asked, his big eyes wandering over the DVD as though it was some kind of precious artifact.

"You'll see."

Yakko led Harpo over to the living room with Babs not far behind. He put the DVD into the player, turned on the TV, and sat back; Harpo immediately jumped in his lap. Babs could hardly contain her excitement; Yakko had told her the previous night what he had planned and she told him she thought it was a wonderful idea. Neither Babs nor Yakko had said anything about Wakko to Harpo in the days since the emotional upset when Harpo had fled the house. But Babs agreed with Yakko that Harpo needed to see his father in action, the way he _really _was, instead of just some drunken good-for-nothing, which was all Harpo had even known of him.

As the show started, Harpo clapped his hands in glee. "Oh boy, a cartoon!" he cheered. Wakko soon appeared on screen. Harpo froze.

"See him? That's your dad, Harpo. That's Wakko Warner," Yakko said gently, pointing to the TV screen. Harpo continued to watch in silence for a few moments, then slowly got up off his uncle's lap and shut off the TV. "What's wrong?" Yakko asked quietly, seeing the serious expression on his nephew's face.

"I don't want to watch that," the little boy said simply.

"But that's your dad on there, baby. Don't you want to watch your dad when he was a big toon star?" Babs said in soft voice.

"That's not my dad," Harpo answered firmly. He shuffled his feet. "Wakko Warner isn't my dad."

Yakko and Babs exchanged a quick glance; had Harpo forgotten about his father? "Yes he is, buddy. I know it for a fact," Yakko said.

Harpo didn't say anything for a moment, looking at the blank TV thoughtfully. He scratched his head, thinking hard; once again, no words came easily. Harpo pointed to the TV, determined to make himself understood. "That was Wakko Warner. Wakko Warner was a character. My dad _played _that character. He wasn't the character in real life."

Yakko swallowed a lump in his throat. "Your dad, Harpo…he wasn't _always _like he was when he was with you. When he was on the show with me, he _was _that character. The show's producers made the show around our personalities, to showcase our personalities. I knew your dad long before you were born, Harpo, and I'm telling you the truth. He was a good person." Yakko looked away. He couldn't bring himself to tell Harpo about how he'd abandoned his father in a time of need; some part of him still needed reassurance that his nephew loved him unconditionally. "He was a better person than I was. At least he never left behind those he loved."

"He left _me_," Harpo said, his voice barely above a tremble.

Yakko found that the lump now prevented him from talking. Babs knelt down next to Harpo and put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eye. "What Wakko was in the last few years that you knew him wasn't really him. You've got to trust us on this, baby."

"Aunt Babs, this isn't about trust. That's how I know him. That's how I grew up with him. For me, that really _was _him."

For a kid that was always considered dumb by those who'd conceived him, Yakko was continually amazed at Harpo's depth of emotional maturity and intelligence. Babs tried to keep from breaking her look with Harpo, whose big eyes were like daggers, demanding answers to questions he'd held inside for a very long time. "He didn't want to leave you. He – "

"If he didn't want to leave me, why did he do the things that he _knew_ would get me taken away from him?" For all of their legal prowess, neither Babs nor Yakko could come up with an answer to the five year old's earnest question. Yakko felt that any answer was better than silence, but could not form any in his mind.

He would have liked to know the answer as much as Harpo.

Harpo let his gaze linger over each of them for a moment, then shifted it to the floor as realization dawned on him: they didn't know any better than he did. He swallowed hard and sighed painfully; he was fighting back tears with every fiber in his body but he _refused _to shed any more tears over his father. "I don't ever want to talk about Daddy again. Ok?" he whispered in a small voice.

Yakko ran his hand through Harpo's tuft of hair. "Ok, buddy," he said painfully, knowing this was the last mention of his brother – physical or otherwise – that he'd know for a very long time. It was like being ripped away from him all over again. "We won't talk about him anymore."

Harpo held Yakko tightly, wrapping his arms as far around him as he could, and knew that his uncle was crying. "It's ok, Uncle Yakko," he said quietly. "We three can be a family, can't we?"

"Of course we can, buddy," Yakko whispered to his nephew, holding him closely. "Of course we can."


	10. 10

Seven long years.

It had been seven long years to the day since Wakko Warner had said goodbye to his then five year old son and his brother, and disappeared behind a steel door. It had been seven years since he'd eaten a decent meal, had a meaningful conversation, or even laid eyes on a beautiful woman. It had been seven years since he'd seen his son.

Incarceration hadn't been meaningful or even interesting to Wakko, who usually passed his days doing the menial labor assigned to him by the prison guards who felt no motivation to act with kindness to any toon there. Wakko had been transferred from Alballa Prison to a prison specifically for toons built in the middle of nowhere in New Mexico shortly after his arrest. It was an ingenious place for a prison – any prisoner who tried to escape faced thirty three miles of open desert before he even got anywhere that had water. Often times if a prisoner escaped, the guards didn't pursue – the toon usually came crawling back to the bright white building in the middle of the desert after a few days, exhausted and dehydrated to the point of collapse. Some didn't come back at all, but no one had ever actually made it to the outside world. Faced with desperation, prisoners gave up hope and accepted their fate. Wakko included.

Accepting fate wasn't all a bad thing in Wakko's eyes. He knew that each day of good behavior on his part brought him one day closer to being with his son again, whom he'd left in the care of his older brother Yakko. He'd been carefully counting the days and months for years, and tomorrow was his day.

Tomorrow, he would get to go home.

Where exactly "home" was by this point wasn't altogether clear, but Wakko knew that as long as he was with his son, it wouldn't matter where he was. Communication with the outside world was strictly forbidden in all toon prisons, for no real reason except that humans _liked _it that way. Wakko couldn't do much to argue his case since it seemed every other toon in the toon prison system was facing the same problem as he. Still, he lied awake at night trying to imagine what his now 12 year old Harpo might look like…

Wakko had been dozing in his cell when he heard a guard rap gruffly on the bars to his cell. Wakko immediately shot up out of his daze. "Incoming," the guard grunted, opening up the cell and allowing another guard to throw a hunched over figure to the floor of Wakko's cell. "He's a newbie. Show him how we do things around here, eh? He ain't quite broken in yet, if you know what I mean," the guard sneered. Inwardly Wakko scowled; he knew what that meant – it meant that even after a round of beatings, this newbie's spirit still hadn't been broken.

As if having an unbreakable will was some sort of fucking crime.

"Here buddy, let me help you up," Wakko said softly, gently easing the newbie to his feet in the near darkness. "Let me give you a little advice. Most of the guards here are assholes. It's better to just keep your head down and not argue if you don't want to get your teeth knocked out."

"I'd rather have my teeth knocked out than take their shit," the new guy said, plopping himself down heavily onto the little cot in the corner. "This beating was worth the trouble _I _gave them. Just _let _them try again. I'llshow them what criminally insane _really _means."

That voice rang a bell somewhere in Wakko's head. He was silent for a moment, thinking hard, until the light caught the prisoner's face and Wakko gasped. "Buster? Buster Bunny? Christ, is that you?"

Buster looked up sharply at his cell mate and his expression changed to shock upon recognition. "Wakko Warner? What the hell are you doing in here?"

"I could ask the same of you, man. What the hell happened? What'd you do to get landed in here?"

The Buster Bunny sitting in front of Wakko was not the Buster Bunny that he'd last seen almost fifteen years ago. The Buster Bunny of fifteen years ago had been bright and plucky looking, never short a smile or a funny joke. Wakko and he had been friends during and right after their respective shows but had slowly lost track of one another. The Buster of today sat in front of Wakko in a torn prison uniform with a deep scar running along his left cheek and dead eyes. Bandages appeared here and there all over his body and blood had been slowly seeping through the cloth on some of them. One eye was swollen nearly shut from the guards' beating. But more than anything, Wakko noticed that Buster just looked tired. Very, very tired. It was obvious life had not been kind to Mr. Buster Bunny in the past decade, and his body had borne the brunt of it.

Buster wheezed a weak cough and tried to sit up straight but found he was too weak. Wakko caught him before he pitched over the side of the cot and helped him lean his tired body against the cell wall. "Just take it easy, man. Just rest. We'll talk later."

"No, let's talk now," Buster said in a determined voice. "I'm _not _going to let what those bastards did to me stop me from enjoying a conversation with an old friend like you, buddy."

"It won't be very enjoyable with you passing out in the middle of it. Just rest a bit, Buster. Please?"

Buster glared at him and said, "I've had worse than this, Wakko. I'm fine. Just tell me how you've been, ok? I've missed you. Talk slow." Buster's voice was weak and hollow. Wakko had to swallow a lump in his throat before speaking again.

"I robbed a liquor store."

"That's all?"

"No. Of course not. They know I've done more than that, but that's all they've got me on."

Buster laughed weakly. "You always _were _good at getting away with more shit than most people. I'd never seen anything like it. God, the stunts you could pull, and no one would be the wiser! You could run circles 'round any cop in Toontown. Surprised it was something as incidental as a liquor store heist that landed you in here."

Wakko popped one of his three-a-day rationed cigarettes into his mouth and lit it. He gave one to Buster, who took it gratefully. "I guess it was just my time. This place ain't so bad when you can just keep your mind focused on what you've got waiting for you out there," Wakko said, nodding towards the window.

"And what if you ain't got nothing waiting for you out there?" Buster said softly.

Wakko was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry, Buster," he whispered finally. "I wish life had been better to you."

Buster made a sound that was supposed to be a laugh but instead came out as more of a hoarse bark. "Life of a toon, eh?" He sighed. "I can blame it on being a toon, but that isn't it. I know it isn't. Some toons are doing fine. Others? Well…" He motioned to he and Wakko's prison garb. "Maybe we're just the ones getting caught, huh?"

Wakko turned his gaze to the floor. "Yakko and Babs are doing fine."

Buster's form stiffened slightly at the mention of his old co-star. "Yeah?" he said, trying to sound uninterested.

"Yeah. Big shot toon lawyers." Wakko took a deep drag of his cigarette. Unbeknownst to Babs, who had never liked Buster as more than just a casual friend, Wakko knew (because he'd been Buster's best friend during this time) that Buster was head over heels in love with his leading lady but had never had the courage to speak up about it before Yakko entered the scene and had, in Buster's mind, stolen Babs away. Wakko had watched his best friend's heart break at the same time he saw his older brother fall in love for the first time, and naturally he had had mixed emotions about the whole thing. While Wakko was indeed happy that Yakko had found his better half, he hated to see the change in Buster's behavior that ensued. Wakko sighed irritably. "What the fuck happened to us, Buster?" Buster looked lazily over at him but said nothing. "I mean, we used to be _it _in Toontown. I used to have money, and talent, and people who cared about me. You and I – we had some of the highest ratings on TV, man! Now look at us – the three o'clock spot, and the four o'clock slot, right here next to each other in a prison in the middle of a fucking desert."

Buster shrugged. "You said it, man. You gotta look forward to what's outside these walls. I wish I did. I wish I had Babs."

Wakko put his head in his hands. "You and I can blame my brother all we like. It isn't his fault."

Buster scoffed. "The fuck it isn't…" he muttered beneath his breath. Before he knew it, he had been hauled to his feet by an irate Wakko, who was holding him up by his collar alone.

"What did you say!" he shouted at Buster.

"You heard me!" Buster shoved away from Wakko, barely able to keep his balance. "If he hadn't stolen Babs away from me, I wouldn't have _ever _been in this position! If she had been there to care about me, I wouldn't have gone and done the kinds of things that land guys like us in jail!"

"What, you expected her to save you, the same way I expected my brother to save me? Why? What role did they play in what happened to us, huh?"

"If he hadn't stepped in, you _know _she and I would – "

"No, I _don't _know, and neither do you!" Wakko laughed mirthlessly. "I made that mistake way too long, Buster, and look where it got me! Babs and Yakko cared about us! Hell, they put up with our antics longer than anyone else in our circle of friends!"

"Oh, so now they're a pair of fucking saints, and _we're _the ones who are the scum of the earth? God, man, you and me pulled off a lot when we were the wild boys of Toontown, and why? Why did we do it?" Buster pointed to his chest. "Because we hurt. In _here. _I for Babs, and you for your brother and sister."

Wakko frowned. "Yes we hurt. Of course we did. But that's not an excuse to go wrecking our lives and the lives of those that love us. I'm in here because of what _I _did, _not _because of anything my _brother _did. Same as _you're _in here for whatever _you_ did, _not _anything that Babs did! My brother was right all those years ago, that you and I never took responsibility for our actions and always expected to have someone else take the blame! What blame was there to be laid at either of their feet, hm? For the fact that they cared about each other and yet they could still care about us?"

Buster's gaze never shifted from Wakko's for a long moment before he finally sank to the ground and buried his face in his hands. "You're right," he said softly. "I just didn't want to believe this was all my fault. This isn't me. This isn't who I am. I'm a _good _person, Wakko."

"I know buddy," Wakko said in a soft tone, also sitting down. "It took me a long time to realize that I couldn't blame others for the things I didn't like about myself. But it isn't fair to those we love. It just pushes them farther away."

"You're right," Buster whispered. "I was going to hell long before Yakko and Babs were an item. What life could I give her?" He looked at Wakko in the eyes. "Your brother is a good toon, Wakko. He always knows the right thing to do. He always does it."

"It's strange that his strongest virtue can also be his weakness. He believed me all those years when I told him my behavior was his fault. God, look how much pain I caused him! For what? Because I knew I could do it. I knew I could say things like that to him and he would believe it. And I thought that maybe someday I'd be able to believe it too, and it would take some of the pain away." Wakko shook his head. "That _isn't _me. Wakko Warner doesn't make his siblings hurt just because he does."

"So why did we do it?" Buster asked in a tone that bordered on sounding frightened.

"Life got in the way." Wakko looked out the window wistfully. "We were all changing, all going our separate ways…maybe it scared us. Maybe we thought that the people who cared about us wouldn't care about us anymore. So we made them hurt. A person _always _remembers emotional pain, even if they don't always remember good friends. Causing pain is like creating a bridge between two people that can never really be severed. As long as pain, regret and guilt are there, our friends and family would keep coming back to us, to try and make it up to us. We made them believe it was their fault for that reason, and that reason alone." He sighed. "But it can't all be that. Hell Buster, we had a lot of money and a lot of free time. Toontown can be a toon's dream and worst nightmare all at the same time. Limitless places to drink, gamble, pick up girls…and no one to tell us to stop. We were too famous. We could do whatever we want, because we were Wakko and Buster. That just became our world."

"You've been thinking about this a lot."

"Seven years," Wakko said with a small smile. "And at the cost of seeing my son grow up."

"You got a son?"

"Yes," Wakko said proudly. "He's the reason I've striven in here to understand myself and what I did to end up here. I have to make it up to him, somehow."

Buster smiled. "That old emotional bridge of pain again, hm?"

Wakko shrugged slightly. "It was my fault, Buster. I can't forgive myself for the childhood I gave him."

"Where is he now?"

"Yakko and Babs have been taking care of him." Wakko laughed a little. "I know they're giving him a great childhood now. He's got enough to eat and a safe place to sleep, and he's surrounded by people who love him. But it's strange. I lie awake at night and worry about little things that parents worry about. I worry that he's going to fall down and break a bone. I worry if he's going to think with his own mind or if he's just going to follow the crowd. I worry about the things I can't control. And I miss him. God, I miss him." Wakko leaned back against the wall and looked at his hands in his lap. "I spend so much of my time thinking about what he looks like now, what he sounds like. I wonder what his hobbies are. I wonder what his favorite food is, what his favorite sport is, I wonder if he's ever seen my old cartoons. I wonder if he's more like me or more like Yakko and Dot. The true hell of prison life isn't the confined space or the isolation – it's not being able to see the people you love."

"Jesus Wakko, you sure have changed since the days you and I were terrorizing Toontown," Buster said with a smile. "Your biggest worry back then was how much to bet on red, or whether or not the cute blonde in the corner would agree to go home with you." He shook his head. "You grew up, man."

"Yeah, I did." Wakko smiled as he thought, _And tomorrow I'll find out if it'll make any difference at all to my son after everything his childhood was like…_


	11. 11

* * *

Green paint, now yellowed from the sun, flaked off in tiny chunks on a constant basis from the side of the boat, much to Red's annoyance. Little things like that could bother him into an obsession, and for weeks now he'd been asking when Dot planned on pulling into port so he could repaint the green sharks. They'd had a few run-ins with officers looking for a boat of their description that had been stolen from the Bahamas years before but the green sharks always managed to keep the officer's suspicions at bay. From living many years in the islands, Red was a superstitious man, and knew that allowing the very things on your boat which protected you – the green sharks – to go to hell meant bad luck. So, perhaps it was more than the fear of the law that was making Red antsy for some green paint and a stretch of beach.

Dot, who had her own frustrations, had learned to ignore the ramblings about magical green sharks coming from Red and instead concentrated on her task, which so far was seven years old and getting no easier. The _Charlotte _was proving to be more elusive than originally thought, and life on a 60ft boat could wear thin at times. Scooby, her diver, and a few of his piratical-looking diving compatriots lived on the boat in addition to Dot and Red. She often thought they'd scoured the whole of the West Indies and still had come up short. Along the way, they'd found enough loot lying in the wrong locations to at least keep themselves fed and the boat gassed up, but the sites were never rich enough to warrant even considering the possibility of it being the _Charlotte _and so, as it has so many others in the Caribbean, treasure fever had taken over and they all vowed to _never _give up the hunt until she was found.

Scuba tanks lined the perimeter of the boat like guards standing watch over all of them. Scooby, a black and white cartoon cat who looked more faded than the boat, examined the O ring on his beat up, bright green tank and sighed. Tanks and equipment weren't meant to last forever and that's exactly what Dot wanted it to do. Scooby hooked up his tank to his gauges and first stage and checked the reading. Only 1500psi. That wasn't good. Calling the air pressure machine on board second hand would be doing it a favor – Scooby swore it had to be third or fourth hand. Even on the best days the damn thing only filled their tank to 2000psi instead of the safe level of 3000, and for dives like they were doing Scooby would have preferred a nice 5000psi. At the depth he and his divers were diving to today – around seventy five feet – he could only hope to stay down for a half hour; that was a liberal figure and would require them to breathe slowly and only when needed.

He spit into his mask and rinsed it out in the sea to keep it from fogging up on him when he was down. He whistled to his divers, who came out from the break room with their wet suits pulled up to their waists and chewing on the last of lunch. "Let's go guys," he said. They suited up, strapped tanks to their backs, marked their location on the map, popped their regulators in their mouths and leapt off the boat.

The first seconds after hitting the water weighed down with twenty pounds of scuba gear on is always disorienting, even to the best divers. Scooby waited patiently for this to pass, gave the "ok" signal to his partners, and began the slow ascent to the bottom. No matter how many times he dove, the sight of a dark ocean floor, fretted with predatory fish and shipwrecks lurking just under the sand always sent a chill up his spine. There was always a moment just after he jumped in when he wished he could jump out again, never to have to go down again. But he knew that a toon who could dive was rare, and so he was a hot commodity – something he hadn't been since the 1920's as toon royalty. Now no one even remembered who he was. The name "Scooby" instead conjuring up images of a big brown dog. He shuddered. He hated dogs.

Up on deck, Dot dropped anchor so as not to drift while the boys were under. She tossed her cigarette overboard and noted their location. They'd been there before.

Scooby held his waterproof metal detector out away from him and to an angle, hoping to pick up any stray signals. His divers went west while Scooby, following a strange hunch, followed the eastern line. Haunted by the low air supply and careful not to sup too much, he ran his detector over any and all depressions he came across. After twenty fruitless minutes, and frustrated by the 200psi left in his tank, Scooby prepared himself to go up. He'd have to allow for a decompression stop and so needed a bit of air for that. He swung the metal detector to his left side, trying to hook it onto his belt, but the metal latch would not unlock. He drifted with the light current, struggling with the stubborn latch, over to an enormous coral bed to his right. Suddenly his metal detector screeched to life. Scooby jumped (well, as well as one could while in water) and nearly dropped the regulator from his mouth. He took a look at his detector's gauges; they were pinned. Whatever this was, it was huge.

He pounded on his tank with a dive knife, alerting the other divers to where he was. It took three of them to scrape off a patch of coral enough to see the bronze gleam up at them. Scooby started; a bronze cannon! Those things were worth upwards of $4,000! He signaled his intentions to the other divers and, knowing they didn't have much air left, began to scrape as much of the stuff off as they could. Scooby's heart skipped a beat when he saw the engraving on the side:

_HMS Charlotte_

He would have laughed for joy if the telltale emptiness of his air tank hadn't made itself known at that moment; he rasped the last few breaths out of the tank while giving the signal for "up," snatched his emergency air supply canister (which gave him a few breaths of air), popped it in his mouth and came to the surface as slowly as he could without running out of air. They all broke the surface at about the same time and grinned at one another.

"Well?" Dot shouted from the deck.

"Boss," Scooby said, grinning ear from ear. "I think you'll be pleased."

Once the initial excitement of having found the _Charlotte_ died down, Scooby, Dot and Red sat on the prow and began planning a course of action to raise the treasure. "Here's what I think happened to the ship, judging from what we saw down there," Scooby said, popping his cigarette in his mouth to free his hands. He drew a picture of a ship on water. "There must have been a storm, boss. There's no other way for her to have sunk in the position she's in unless she was hit by enemy fire, which we know she wasn't. The shoals she hit must have been those – " he pointed to a shallow flat about 500 yards away, " – and she must have been going fast enough to really get herself in trouble fast. She musta sunk like a ton of bricks, boss. And she sunk on her side. That's why there's all those cannons lined up on top of her, and also why her hull wasn't completely buried like most other shipwrecks. The hull and the bronze cannons have become a coral bed."

"Wait, _bronze _cannons?"

Scooby grinned. "Sure, boss. They were bronze cannons."

"Scooby, bronze cannons stopped being produced in the late seventeenth century because they exploded when they got too hot. Guys would be in the midst of battle and their own goddamn cannon would blow up in their face! Plus they were expensive to make."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm having a hard time believing that an eighteenth century wreck has seventeenth century military equipment."

"Boss, we got positive identification. It says _Charlotte _right on the cannon."

"Look Dot, it only _sank _in 1718 – it probably wasn't made in the eighteenth century. It was probably made in the late seventeenth," Red said.

"You think so?" Dot said, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Red nodded.

"Dammit." Dot lit a cigarette. "Those seventeenth century wrecks are always harder to get to. They were better built and stood up better to getting smashed by reefs. I'll tell you what I think."

"What?" Scooby asked.

"I think we're going to have to blast the hell out of that coral to get to any treasure."

"Blast underwater?" Red cried. "How the hell are we going to do that?"

"We need a pyrotechnics expert," Dot said simply.

"Honey, where we gonna we get one of those?" Red said, gesturing to the wide ocean.

"Red, I've never failed you yet and I'm not gonna start now. Look, we're gonna pull into the nearest island. First, you're gonna paint me some green sharks for luck. Then I'm gonna hock the last of the treasure we've been saving for an emergency and I'm buying you a ticket to America. If there's anyone on earth who knows about things that explode, it's my brother, Wakko Warner. You're gonna find him and bring him back here to me, and we're gonna make some money." Dot smirked. "It's time for a family reunion..."

* * *


	12. 12

* * *

The world might have been a confusing place, but Harpo Warner knew one thing for sure: he didn't like being known as "Wakko Warner's little boy."

For one thing, at twelve years old, Harpo didn't consider himself a "little boy." Secondly, if he was going to be known as _anyone's _"little boy," he preferred to be "Yakko Warner's little boy." It was a logical to anyone who didn't know the Warner's past; Harpo looked like his uncle, except that his face was rounder like his father's and he wore round wire-framed glasses, and he lived with his uncle. So why _shouldn't _people think he was Yakko's son?

The reason was simple: if Harpo took off his glasses and put on a hat, he was absolutely, undeniably and unquestioningly of Wakko Warner descent.

This had only been proved once, albeit once was more than enough for Harpo. While asleep at a friend's house, his friend's siblings had taken off Harpo's glasses and stuck a red baseball hat on his head. The siblings, knowing enough of Toontown gossip, knew exactly who Harpo's father was and made sure to snap enough pictures to prove it. Harpo awoke to a room littered with hundreds of duplicate copies of the picture, taped up in every inch of the room. He was too stunned to do anything. It was the closest to tears he'd been in seven years.

But for the most part, no one gave Harpo a hard time about his real father if for no other reason than this: people _liked _Harpo. Since Harpo had seen and been through much more than most of his peers, he was able to relate to everyone on their own level and able to see past the superfluous fronts that people put up. He was unique among his peers in that he was a thinker and a friend to everyone, no matter their place in the social hierarchy of junior high school. Harpo was one of the few twelve year olds who didn't give a hoot for social labels placed on a person and didn't much care for gossip or for pettiness, preferring instead to think with his own mind, coming to his own conclusions about people, things and places. Harpo wasn't popular in the junior high sense of the word, but he had many friends and many hobbies that left him fulfilled. Everyone knew that if you had a problem and you couldn't count on anyone else to help, Harpo Warner was the guy you went to.

It wasn't just other toons at Toontown Junior High school who thought he was a special kid, either. Yakko and Babs' parties were still as frequent as they always had been, and Harpo enjoyed the company of people older than he was and found their conversations and stories far more interesting than those of his age group. He could listen for hours to toons like Bugs Bunny or Mickey Mouse. He loved hearing about the early days of movies and animation, and marveled that the toons sitting in front of them had actually _lived _it. For someone who didn't talk at all the first five years of his life, Harpo had a way with words that astounded people three and four times his age.

Yakko marveled at the difference between Harpo from any of the other Warner siblings. Whereas Yakko was the talker, Wakko was the eccentric one and Dot was the independent one, Harpo was the philosophical one. He still had a habit of listening more than talking, thereby learning much about life from listening to other people. When Harpo was six they'd all moved to a house on the nice side of Toontown and knew almost at once that they could never live anywhere else. The little sidewalk cafés, eclectic stores, and plenty of artists shops combined with motion picture museums, theatres, parks and libraries made the small village seem like a paradise to Yakko, Babs and Harpo. There was plenty of room for Harpo to run and skate with his friends, plenty of clients for Yakko and Babs, and enough of everything in between to never warrant a dull moment. The search for Dot had ended shortly after Harpo had arrived, both for the fact that Harpo filled the emotional hole that had been in Yakko and Babs' lives and because it had been impossible to trace her whereabouts. All Yakko had been able to discover was that she had abandoned ship in Mexico the night after her first gig on a cruise ship and was never seen again. Of course, as a lawyer, the words "was never seen again" struck terror into his heart, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that Dot was the sharpest and most clever Warner in the trio, and she knew how to use this to her advantage.

As per Harpo's request, Yakko and Babs hadn't mentioned Wakko in seven years. Sometimes Yakko would spontaneously remember a story involving Wakko when Harpo did something reminiscent of his absentee father, but Yakko managed to keep quiet. Harpo would sometimes get a look in his eye or a crooked smile on his face that was distinctly Wakko's. In those moments, Yakko's heart would skip a beat to see how close his brother was, and yet have him be so far away at the same time. He had many feelings about the present state of the torn family of Warner, but he never felt sorrowful about it unless he caught the face of Wakko staring out at him from Harpo's young expressions. In these times, he wished more than anything that Harpo would consent and let Yakko teach him who his father truly was; he felt if Harpo had this knowledge, Harpo wouldn't be so hard on Wakko's memory. Or on himself.

Yakko and Babs knew Harpo was extremely sensitive to his parentage and he had asked his aunt and uncle on numerous occasions if they would legally adopt him as their son. Knowing that Wakko would, presumably, be back someday, Yakko and Babs always changed the subject quickly so as not to have to answer. It wasn't because they didn't _want _to adopt Harpo – in their eyes, he _had _been their son for seven years – but respect for Wakko had kept them from going through with it. Both Yakko and Babs knew it would break Wakko's heart to come back and find his son was no longer his son. Although Harpo called them "Yakko" and "Babs," in his mind they were as good as "Dad" and "Mom."

The teacher was droning on again. Harpo had long since stopped listening, since there was something else in the classroom that demanded his undivided attention: Jessica Hertford. Her long brunette hair and flashing green eyes had long been a source of fascination for Harpo, who usually spent a good portion of the day sneaking glances across the room at her. So far as he knew, she had no idea he even existed, which bothered him some but at the same time comforted him; if she didn't know he existed, he wouldn't have the awkward duty of chatting her up. He sighed and looked to his right for seemingly the millionth time that day. The clock was right above Jessica, which always gave him an alibi for looking in that direction. He glanced quickly up at the clock - fifteen minutes to go - and then stole a look at Jessica, who was yawning loudly as most of the students were at this time of day. Suddenly, without any warning at all, she looked over at him too. He froze as their eyes met. Then, to his surprise, a small smile appeared on Jessica's lips, and almost playful expression crossed her face. Harpo immediately blushed full red, which made Jessica giggle quietly. He looked away, trying to get absorbed in the teacher's lecture, but naturally he couldn't - Jessica had _looked_ at him and _smiled! _Suddenly Harpo's heart felt weightless, as if it wasn't even there any more, as if it belonged to Jessica entirely. He fiddled with the pencil in his hands until the bell finally rang. As he looked up after shoving all his books in his bag, Jessica was standing near his desk, much to his surprise.

"Hi Harpo," she said.

"H-Hi," Harpo stammered, clumsily trying to put his book bag on. "Hi Jessica."

"Do you want to walk me home?" she said easily with a smile. Harpo grinned.

"Sure!"

The two ambled side by side through town, making the kind of awkward small talk born out of inexperience with the opposite sex.

"Why do they call you Harpo?" Jessica asked, flicking a strand of hair out of her face.

"Oh…well, it's because I didn't talk too much when I was little. So my fath – my family just started to call me Harpo."

"Oh. It's cute," she said with a smile. Harpo through his heart might melt. "You know, you still don't talk to much," she said as if she were the first one that had ever noticed it.

"I do when I have something to say," Harpo said quickly, not wanting her to think he wasn't interested in her. "I'm just…a little shy, I guess." He could have hit himself. _Shy? _He didn't know much about girls, but he _did _know most girls didn't go for the strong silent type anymore. He quickly added, "But only a little bit."

"Right," Jessica said slowly, giving him a long look and a knowing smile. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Harpo. Some girls like it."

"No they don't," Harpo said dejectedly.

"Oh, come on. You have friends who are girls."

"Yeah, _friends _who are girls. But trying to get a girl to, you know, _like _you – " He stopped short because this was fast becoming a conversation he'd rather not have with someone like Jessica. It must have sounded a little strange, but when he looked up at Jessica she was still smiling at him.

"I like you, Harpo. You're different, somehow." She looked away, feeling a little shy herself. "You don't try to be something you're not. I think that's really cool."

"Thanks," Harpo said quietly, adjusting his glasses. "I – I like you too."

They both stopped in front of a white house with black shutters. "This is my place," Jessica said, looking up at the house as though she'd never seen it before. "Thanks for walking with me, Harpo."

"My pleasure." Harpo smiled nervously. "Uh…can we do it again sometime?"

Something in the honesty of Harpo's voice made Jessica grin broadly. "Sure." Before she could think better of it, she leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Harpo's cheek. He froze in place. She smiled, blushing pink. "Bye, Harpo. See you in school!" Jessica ran up the walk, leaving Harpo glued to the spot. It was a full minute before he could tear himself away from his place on the sidewalk and resume his walk home. He felt light-headed as he replayed the feeling of the kiss again and again – Jessica Hertford had _kissed _him!

Harpo ran the rest of the way home and found his uncle in the backyard, trying to coax plants to grow out of the garden that had refused to grow since they'd moved in. Harpo silently dropped his bookbag and his books, hid behind a bush until Yakko got close enough to pounce on, then leapt from the bushes, tackling his uncle to the ground. This had been a ritual with the two of them for years; as Harpo got bigger and stronger, he got to be more of a challenge to Yakko, but Harpo loved testing out his new strength stemming from oncoming adolescence and Yakko loved to wrestle his nephew. They tousled for a good ten minutes until they both collapsed, exhausted, next to each other on the lawn.

"How was your day?" Harpo panted.

"Not bad. Yours?" Yakko panted back.

"It was _great!" _Harpo cried, sitting up and grinning broadly.

"Wow. You haven't been this excited since they decided to start celebrating Bloomsbury Day in school," Yakko noted as he rolled to his side, facing Harpo. "What's up?"

"Jessica Hertford kissed me!" Harpo burst happily. "She kissed me, Yakko! We were walking home together, and she said she liked me and that I was different, and then when we stopped in front of her house, she kissed me! Right _here!" _He pointed to the spot on his cheek that was still slightly tingly.

Yakko laughed. "That's great, buddy! Since when have you been a ladies' man?"

Harpo blushed. "I'm _not." _

Yakko got up and Harpo followed him into the kitchen. "Don't be so self-deprecating, my man! Don't forgot _your uncle _was quite a lady killer until I met Babs."

"If you call getting drenched in more martinis by ill-tempered women than anyone else in Toontown lady-killing," Babs said with a smirk as she emerged, still in her work clothes, from the entry hall. "Harpo, he could hook 'em, but reelin' 'em in was quite another matter."

"Obviously I wasn't too bad at it, because you, my dear, are quite a catch," Yakko said, giving Babs a quick hello kiss. "Our boy just got his first kiss this afternoon."

"Harpo, that's great! Your uncle and I are going to have to start beating off the pretty girls with a stick now, hm?"

"I doubt it," Harpo said, blushing again. "But man, oh man, she's pretty."

"I bet she is. I always said you had taste, kid," Yakko said, tousling Harpo's hair. "Why don't you invite her to the barbeque tonight? There's a whole bunch of people coming over, so if you two get nervous together, you can just blend in with everyone else."

After toying nervously with the phone for an hour, Harpo did eventually work up the courage to call Jessica and ask her, very haltingly, if she wanted to come to a dinner party. To his immense relief, she happily said she'd love to and Harpo had run up to his room, and for the first time in his entire life, agonized over his hair in the mirror. Yakko and Babs watched all of this with a sentimental amusement.

"It was like yesterday he was just a little guy in his too-big overalls who used to dance with us in the kitchen to 'No Woman, No Cry,'" Yakko said, helping Babs prepare the meat to be barbequed. "And now he's had his first kiss." Yakko paused. "Wonder what Wakko would think of all this."

The name "Wakko" had come to only be spoken in hushed tones between Yakko and Babs, like some kind of contraband. Babs shrugged. "He would have found the nearest party, shouted it proudly to everyone, then would have bought drinks all 'round."

Yakko smiled. "Yeah. That's what he would have done. He and Buster could be some wild animals when they chose to be."

Babs laughed quietly. "Buster. God. I haven't thought of him in years." She sighed. "I wonder where he is and what he's up to."

"Honey, Buster's probably in New York writing bestsellers. I always said that guy had a million stories in him. He had the creative energy of a hundred toon legends when he chose to harness it. He could have been bigger than Bugs if he'd just applied himself."

"True," Babs said. "He was more talented than the whole cast of _both _our shows combined. I hope to hell he's put it to good use."

They were silent a moment, then Yakko said something he could never make himself bring up before then. "Babs…why didn't you and Buster…you know."

"He was just too much," Babs said quickly, knowing exactly what Yakko was getting at and wondering why it had taken this many years for him to say it. "You remember how he and your brother were. I abandoned Buster for the same reason you abandoned Wakko. We did our best, baby. I truly believe that we have nothing to feel guilty about."

"Yeah, but – "

"Look, _you're _the one I want for the exact reason that Buster was the one I _didn't _want. He was opposite from you in every way that counts to me. If he had just – " Babs cut off, knowing she'd already said too much.

"What? What were you going to say?" Yakko put the bowl of sauce down and looked at his partner seriously.

"I can't."

"What? Whatever it is, it's – "

"No. Not right now. Look, people are coming over soon…"

"So what? Tell me."

Babs closed her eyes. "All right. Look, if Buster had been the Buster I know he could have been if he'd tried hard, I would have fallen for him. When he wanted to be, he could be smart, and charming and funny. And talented! God, he could blow me away with some of the stuff he could do. When I first met him, I _wanted _to fall for him. He used to stay up all night just to write me songs or poems. And none of spineless, spiritless shit that men usually try to win you over with. No, this stuff was Art. Sometimes I'd go to his apartment and we'd just sit up all night talking. Just talking. He was…he was perfect, Yakko.

_Was _being the key word here. It was the same stuff that happened with your brother. Fame started taking over. Money. Wakko and he found kindred spirits in one another because they both had the same irreverent outlook on life. They pushed any limit they could find just to see what was on the other side. In each other, they found someone else who was willing to break every rule and not bat an eye. So that's what they did. But you know as well as I that it did things to both of them. Things that destroy toons so easily in this town. I hated it. I hated whatever motivation made he and your brother do the kinds of things they did.

When I met you, you reminded me of the Buster I used to know. But you had one big difference that more and more became very important to me in those times of uncertainty: reliance. I knew you weren't going to blow all our money at a gambling table. I knew that you weren't going to sleep with other girls. You were everything that he was – smart, funny and charming – without all that stupid toon fame shit that went along with Buster's personality. I know I'm making my love for you sound like a substitute for not having any love for Buster, but it's not that. There's so much more to you than there ever was to Buster. Who can say where I'd be and who I'd be with if Buster hadn't gone down the road he did? But you came along at exactly the right moment and I was crazy about you. Don't you see? Their tragedy bonded us together because we went through it at the same time. We're the survivors. We're the survivors of all that."

Yakko looked confused and hurt at the end of her speech. "We're more than that, aren't we?" he said quietly.

Just as Babs opened her mouth to speak, the doorbell rang and the first of the guests began to arrive. Yakko and Babs tried their best to act as though nothing had happened in the kitchen, and chatted as charismatically as they always did with their guests. They told funny stories, did impressions and spoke about issues in Toontown with the fluidity of those who were on the inside track. Whatever awkwardness had existed between Harpo and Jessica in the first half hour of dinner dissipated when a steak that Harpo had dropped and put back on the tray was eaten vivaciously by Yakko's boss, Louis Van Buren, causing both Harpo and Jessica to erupt into shoulder-shaking laughter. Being too young to fully grasp the suggestive nature of inviting a girl up to his bedroom, Harpo was laying lazily on his bed while Jessica read through the titles on his bookshelf.

"Wow, you like Emerson? And Wilde?" Jessica said, amazed.

Harpo, fully aware of himself as a bibliophile, nodded in a semi-embarrassed way. "Yeah. Teachers always tell me not to bother reading books like that because I won't understand, but I do." He paused thoughtfully. "You know Jessica, I know I'm only twelve, but I think I'm smarter than some of those teachers."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Jessica said, pulling a volume off the shelf because the cover was pretty. "I swear, some of those teachers need to sit in our seats for a few days and see what it's like being a kid nowadays. But really, Harpo, there's a reason you're in all those advanced placement classes."

Ignoring her comment and not wanting to get into a conversation about his intelligence, Harpo pointed to the book in her hand. "What's that you've got there?"

"T-Tayo Tee Ging," Jessica said laboriously. "By Lay-o Tizzie."

"Oh, Tao Te Jing. That's a good one. One of Yakko's friends gave it to me last year. I don't understand a lot of it, but it _sounds _beautiful."

"The _what?" _

"It's pronounced Dow Day Jing. It's ancient Chinese philosophy." Jessica gave him an _are you serious? _look which made Harpo laugh. "Come on up here," he said, patting the bed and sitting up straight. He took the book from Jessica as she sat down. "By Lao Tzu. It describes the nature of the Tao, or the Way. The Tao is everything, Jessica. It's the stars and the moon and the sun and the water. It's you and me and everyone in school. We're all made of the same stuff as this bed here, and of star systems that are hundreds of billions of miles away."

"What's a twelve year old doing reading ancient Chinese philosophy?" Jessica said, somewhat confused and looking Harpo straight in the eye.

Harpo continued the gaze for a few seconds more, then said, "It helps me to understand things. It helps me to understand myself and my life."

"How?" Jessica read a few of the poems silently in her head. "I don't understand them at all. Am I dumb or something?"

"You're not supposed to understand them right away, Jessica. You're supposed to savor them, a little bit at a time, like a good music album or the last glass of eggnog of the season. I don't understand them completely either. I probably never will. Some of the wisest men and women in the world have spent a lifetime meditating on the Tao and still can't completely comprehend It. That's okay. The journey is the important part."

Jessica giggled. "You sound like one of those motivational posters in the health room."

Harpo smiled. "But it's true. Isn't it always kind of a letdown on Christmas morning after you've opened all your gifts?"

"Yeah. It's almost more fun to shake them and guess what they are in the two weeks before Christmas. It's never as much fun once you actually have whatever's in the box."

"See? It's the same thing."

"Ancient Chinese philosophy is like Christmas presents?" Jessica said with a playful smirk that made Harpo's heart jump. He smiled, knowing she understood, but appreciating that she had a sense of humor, something he knew he needed to work on.

"Well, maybe not exactly," he said, smiling back. "But it's the same general idea."

Jessica put her hand on Harpo's cheek. "You're a good guy, Harpo Warner," she said softly.

Down on the back deck, Yakko had just finished telling a particularly witty lawyer joke that had left Van Buren in hysterics when the doorbell ring. Yakko patted Babs' hand. "I'll get it," he said.

"Whoever it is, make them go away! We haven't got anymore food!" Babs called as Yakko exited.

Yakko smiled and made his way through the kitchen and living room to the front door. He threw a glance up at Harpo's room, cocked an eyebrow at the fact that there was a girl up there, but tried to remind himself that they were only twelve. "Not a ladies' man, my ass," Yakko muttered to himself as he threw open the door. The face on the other side didn't register for a moment. The two brothers stared at each other for a long moment before Yakko managed to croak, "Wakko?"

Wakko gave him a pained smile. "Hey, bro. Been a long time."

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

"Jesus man, when did you get out?" Yakko said, looking his baby brother up and down. He was wearing a beat up jeans jacket, ripped jeans and a ratty hooded sweatshirt. It was standard apparel given to inmates who were re-entering the civilized world with absolutely nothing to their names except a criminal record. Wakko, too, got a good look at his brother, and noted without surprise that Yakko looked just as plucky, successful and happy as he had seven years earlier.

"I got out a couple of days ago," Wakko said simply with a shrug. "It's taken me this long to hitchhike my way back up to Toontown."

"Why didn't you call me? I would have come and gotten you."

"I don't know. I guess I just wanted this to be a surprise."

"Well, _I'm _surprised."

"Good. It wasn't a waste then." Wakko nodded to the interior of the house. "Nice new digs you got here."

"Thanks. Come on in," Yakko said, letting his brother pass.

"Where's Harpo?" Wakko said quickly, clasping his hands together.

Yakko very nearly spat, _Why do you want to know? _before he remembered that it was Wakko, not he, who was Harpo's father. "He's upstairs," Yakko said, jerking his head upward. "In his room." Wakko started to bolt up the steps but Yakko caught him. "Hold on. Let me break it to him that you're here, ok? I know him. He doesn't take surprises like this very well."

Yakko was a little surprised at himself for not welcoming his brother more warmly, but perhaps in the back of his mind he knew what Wakko wanted: to take Harpo away from him. This thought had kept him awake at night for years because it scared Yakko to think of his life without Harpo. The kid had become so much a part of Yakko and Babs' life that neither their lives nor them home would be the same without him. Yakko had to restrain himself from flat out demanding what Wakko's plans were.

To Yakko's surprise, Wakko stepped down from the stairs and nodded to Yakko. "All right. Go on and tell him. I'll wait down here."

Knowing that a huge emotional storm was brewing right in his living room, Yakko jogged up the steps to add the catalyst. He took a deep breath and knocked softly on the door. "Harpo? Kiddo? Can I come in?"

A muffled "sure" resonated within the room and Yakko entered to find Harpo on his bed holding a book and Jessica down by the bookshelf, looking through more titles. "Hey Yakko," Harpo said warmly.

"Hey buddy," Yakko said, sitting down on the bed. "Having fun?"

"Yeah," Harpo said quickly. "Learning about the wonders of literature."

"Good. Listen…there's someone to see you downstairs."

"Oh, should I leave?" Jessica asked.

"No, stay. It's probably just someone who needs the homework," Harpo said.

"It's not that." The seriousness in his uncle's tone made Harpo sit up and pay attention.

"Who is it, then?"

Yakko bit his lip. "Harpo, your dad is downstairs. He came a long way and wants to see you."

A flash of anger crossed Harpo's eyes that was rare for someone so easy-going as he was. Harpo stood up defiantly, clenching his shaking fists. "Tell him I don't want to see him! Tell him I don't want anything to do with him!"

"You need to tell him that, Harp. He needs to hear it from you." Both Yakko and Harpo looked at each other for a long moment, then Yakko said slowly, "You knew this day would come. I know there are things you want to say, that you _need _to say. It's your time to say them."

Harpo's gaze began to water. "You're not going to make me go with him, are you Yakko?"

"Not if you don't want to go."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Harpo could feel his heart in his throat the whole agonizing walk downstairs. Yakko followed close behind. Harpo's eyes came to rest on a slightly hunched figure in the corner staring out of the window. Memories that he'd sworn were forgotten suddenly came roiling to the surface and it was all he could do to keep his knees from buckling beneath him. He tried to make his voice sound strong and tried to remember all of the things he thought he'd say when this day finally came, but all he managed to sputter was a weak, "Father?"

The figure at the window turned slowly and the face which had been half-forgotten except in dreams by Harpo suddenly met his gaze. Harpo gasped at the face staring back at him, for it was practically his own. No wonder his parentage wasn't any secret. "Harpo," Wakko whispered, a slow smile creeping across his face. He practically ran to the other side of the room where Harpo was standing and fell to his knees, embracing his son. "Harpo…you don't know how long I've waited for this day."

"Why'd you come back?" Harpo said sharply, not returning his father's embrace.

Wakko looked up at Harpo's face and smiled. "I know I've got some explaining to do. But let me look at you first. God, Harpo, look how you've grown!" Wakko ran his hands through his son's hair, down his cheeks, drinking in the first sight of him in what seemed like hundreds of years. He had all the awkward proportions of a kid about to become a teenager, but there was wisdom in those young eyes that spoke volumes. For Wakko, just to have Harpo standing in front of him was worth every second spent in a dank cell and he found himself laughing for the first time in years. "You'll never know how much I missed you, buddy."

"Why'd you come back?" Harpo repeated, looking his father dead in the eyes, and shuddering at the fact that his father had just called him "buddy."

Wakko shifted uncomfortably and stood up again. "I promised you I'd be back for you once I did my time. Do you remember? You were just a little guy then. But now I did my time, and I'm out. I came back for you, just like I promised I would."

Curious to see who was at the door, Babs momentarily left their guests on the patio and wandered into the house carrying her drink, which she promptly dropped upon seeing the one and only Wakko Warner standing in her living room. "Wakko?" she stammered, almost unable to believe her eyes.

Wakko gave her a soft smile. "Hey Babs. Good to see you again."

"What're you doing here?"

"Well, this is quite a reception," Wakko drawled sarcastically. "A fella comes back after seven years in the slammer and his own family acts like he's a total stranger."

"Sorry," Babs said, picking up the cup and the ice off the floor. "You just sort of surprised us."

"Apparently I did. But you knew I'd be back some day to get Harpo," Wakko pointed out sensibly. Harpo backed away several steps.

"I'm not going _anywhere _with you," he said in a trembling voice. "Yakko already said I didn't have to go if I didn't want to. They said I could stay here forever."

Wakko threw a momentary glance at his older brother, practically screaming _Traitor! _with his eyes. Wakko then smiled back at Harpo. "Look, I appreciate what your aunt and uncle did for me. But _I'm _your father. I'm your family."

Harpo retreated over to Yakko and held onto his shirt for protection. "_We're _a family now." Yakko couldn't stand the heartbroken expression on Wakko's face and turned away.

"What do you mean? You're only twelve, son. It's not like I've been away from you forever," Wakko said softly.

"I'm a very _old _twelve," Harpo said in a tired voice.

Wakko swallowed hard; he knew this wasn't going to be easy when he came, but it was getting more difficult with each passing moment. "Look. I spent seven years in jail making up for a lifetime of mistakes, but the biggest one I ever made was one I wasn't able to make up for in prison. I'm trying to do that now. I _know _I've made mistakes Harpo, _terrible _mistakes. There are many things about my life that I'm not proud of, but you're not one of them. I've always been proud of you."

"That's a lie," Harpo said in a quaking voice. "That's a lie, and you know it."

"Yakko," Wakko said pleadingly, "Help me out here!"

"It's like I've said all along, Harpo," Yakko said, not breaking his gaze with Wakko. "You can go with whoever you want."

"You," Harpo said, burying his face in Yakko's side. "I want you."

"Look, Harpo," Wakko said. "I'm sorry. Truly I am. I've had seven years to reflect on the mistakes I made. I shouldn't have given you the childhood I did. You deserved better. I know that. But I'm making an honest attempt to put my life back together, and I'm putting it back together so that you and I can have a relationship again. You don't know how I agonized over you in prison! Thank heavens for Yakko and Babs to keep you safe and well-fed, but I want you to be a part of my life again. I want a clean start. I want to make a fresh start, turn over a new leaf. I can't go back to that old life. Please, son, I need you in my life."

"Was I even really in your life when I lived with you?"

Wakko threw an accusatory glance at Yakko once again. "Haven't you taught him _anything _about me? I was messed up, I knew that even then. But Yakko, didn't you at least try to explain me to him?"

"Of course I did!" Yakko said strongly. "And he didn't want to hear any part of it. How the hell can you blame him? Jesus Christ Wakko, he was just a kid!"

"Look," Wakko pleaded with his son. "I'm a good man. I used to pay hotel bills for strangers. I used to perform in hospitals for free. I used to donate money to charity, and – "

" – and the other half to the crap table," Yakko said, his voice unusually metallic. Wakko shot him a _are you on my side or not?_ look. Yakko shrugged. "It's true. You know I love you, bro. But Harpo's right. You were no saint."

"Yakko, what are you doing?" Wakko hissed to his brother. "I'm trying to tell Harpo what kind of man I am, because you obviously never did!"

"I _am _telling him!" Yakko said in a loud voice. "But we may as well not lie. The kid has a legitimate point. He deserves to know what exactly happened to his father to make you the way you were in his lifetime." He began to pace. "Harpo, I've been thinking about when you said you wished Babs and I were your parents. And you're right. I mean, why _shouldn't _you feel that way? If all you've ever seen of your father is the bad side, how can I possibly expect you to accept my ramblings for what he used to be before you even came along? And even if he was _once _that way, what does it matter to you, now? You never saw that Wakko Warner. So naturally it is meaningless to you. I'm sorry I even tried to tell you. It was pointless."

"What the hell's wrong with you!" Wakko exploded. "Why've you turned my son against me?"

"_You _turned me against you!" Harpo shouted to the surprise of all of them. "All Yakko and Babs did was to treat me well for the first time in my life! I may not remember everything about that time in my life, but I remember enough! In fact, I remember more than I wish I did! You treated me like I didn't even _exist! _And now you want to take me away from the only people who have ever treated me with compassion and respect! I don't how you expected to just storm back into my life and have me accept you, but it's _not _going to happen! I don't want anything to do with you!" he roared at the top of his lungs.

"I'm not trying to take you anywhere! Don't think I'm so ignorant to believe that this will happen overnight. I know it won't. All I'm asking is that you keep an open mind, and know that people can change!" Wakko looked at Harpo with a pained expression. "I said I was sorry, Harpo. I mean what I say. I also mean it when I say I want to turn my life around. I want to be a good toon again. I want to be a good father. I'm willing to do anything. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

"I want you to leave," Harpo said. "That's what I want you to do."

"Yakko?" Wakko said gently, hoping his brother might have some encouraging words for them all. In situations like these, the voice of hope and reason had always been Yakko's.

Yakko, however, couldn't speak or move. He was being asked to choose between his brother and his nephew, two of the most important people in his life. "Don't do this to me," he choked finally. "Please don't do this to me."

"Babs?" Wakko turned to Babs standing in the corner of the room.

She shook her head. "Don't make us do this, Wakko. We don't want to lose either one of you."

"I can't believe you're just going to stand by while he tries to take me away from you!" Harpo screamed.

"Calm down, kiddo. You're not going anywhere," Yakko said in a strained voice, giving a fierce look to his brother that all of them were unaccustomed to seeing on Yakko's face. "Your father doesn't quite grasp all the implications of his actions. Never has."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Wakko cried in a hurt voice. "You're bringing up ancient history that has nothing to do with Harpo or my relationship with him."

"He needs to know."

"Then let _me _tell him."

"Why? I'm the one who always had to pick up the pieces. Who better to tell it?" The careless tone in his voice made Babs worry. What was Yakko _doing? _Yakko was not usually a heartless person, so why was he treating his own brother as if he were on the witness stand?

Wakko sighed painfully. "Yakko, I've made a lot of mistakes that have affected the people I love. I regret them. Why can't you understand that I don't want to do that anymore? Please, stop throwing my past in my face. At least not in front of Harpo. I want to make it up. To all of you. I'm not the bad guy. I'm not here to drag my son kicking and screaming back down to the hellish nightmare of what Alballa was, because I don't want that for him that either. All I wanted to do was to see my son and tell him that I'm going to be a part of his life now."

"You don't have the authority to call those kinds of shots," Yakko said, placing a hand on Harpo's shoulder.

Wakko took several steps forward until he was inches away from Yakko's face. "You know, you act like _you're _the father of this kid, Yakko."

"I may as well be," Yakko said before he could stop himself. "And you're a _fool _to think that Harpo would want anything to do with you ever again. He's happy here with us. That's something you've _never _been able to give him."

The vindictive tone in his brother's voice only fueled hurt and resentment from Wakko. He took a slow and steady breath. "All right, Yakko, you win," Wakko whispered. "You want me to say it? Here goes: You're better than me. You're a better person, a better spouse, and a better father. You are a better father to my son then I ever was and may ever be. You're successful and happy, two things I've never had much luck in. I admit it. You're better. You win. There! Will you stop degrading me in front of my only son now and let me try to explain myself to him?" A sense of shame began to creep up deep in Yakko's chest but he buried it as deep as he could for reasons of pride; the only person who had ever been a threat to Yakko's ego was Wakko, and for reasons of self-worth Yakko wasn't about to let any victory slide.

People had often secretly whispered that Wakko was the most talented of the trio and that Yakko covered up for his lack of talent by running his mouth so fast that no one knew the difference. Although it was said in the strictest of confidence by other toons in Toontown, gossip had a way of eventually reaching the ears of those concerned. It was a huge blow to Yakko's ego to learn what his peers really thought of him and only fueled his secret inferiority complex that was so easily hidden from others. Law was one place that running mouths were rewarded, and talent was not necessarily a factor in success. While Yakko genuinely enjoyed his work, he also reveled in the fact that it was one area where Wakko would never be able to out-do him. Partially, he felt that sibling rivalry was natural and a part of every family, so finding an area of talent that is lacked by other siblings was only normal. However, as he became more successful in law and Wakko because less successful in life, he felt sadness at the situation but not necessarily a strong drive to fix it.

But that didn't change the painful expressions on the brothers' faces as they studied each other. "Wakko, I don't want it to have to be like this," Yakko whispered, speaking just as much for the situation as for his own feelings of internal shame.

"You think I do?" Wakko whispered back. "I just want a chance to set my life right."

Yakko's patience snapped, feeling that any chance given to Wakko was as good as forgiveness, something he wasn't quite ready to impart. "You had plenty of chances, and at the expense of this kid's childhood! Once again, the older brother was left to pick up the pieces of his little brother's life! My God, Wakko, I've been taking care of your kid longer than you have! So how _dare_ you come back after seven years and act like some goddamn martyr who deserves _anything!" _

Before Yakko even thought twice, he found himself throwing punches at his own little brother, using every part of his body to maim Wakko's. They had often tussled in the past, and had had plenty of verbal warfare, but neither Warner Brother had _ever _fought with the specific purpose of hurting the other. But that's exactly what was happening, and Yakko was horrified at himself for carefully striking each blow in areas he knew would cause the most pain to his little brother. From years of being in and out of jail, Wakko had learned to fight because it was the only way to survive in the toon prison system and he fought with the expertise of someone who was used fighting for his life. Though smaller and lighter, Wakko was a good fighter, and before either of them knew it Wakko had Yakko pinned against a wall. Blood poured from both of their faces and they were each panting heavily. Harpo stood frozen in the corner, unable to believe that his uncle could be that cruel to another whom he loved, while Babs practically tore Wakko off of her boyfriend.

"Stop this, goddammit!" she roared. "You're _brothers, _for Chrissakes."

Yakko spat out a mouthful of blood, looked Wakko dead in the eye and rasped, "He's no brother of mine."

Everyone stopped moving for a few seconds. Wakko looked like he'd just had his heart ripped from his chest while Yakko's expression remained deadly.

"Get out," he snarled in a voice that could have cut steel. "Get out, and _never _come back!"

Babs helped the stunned Wakko to his feet and whispered, "Leave, Wakko. Please…just go."

Wakko staggered to his feet. He turned to Harpo, who looked and felt more terrified than he ever had in his entire life. "Harpo…" Wakko whispered, reaching out to him. Harpo shook his head and ran the back door and into the yard, vomiting violently into the rose bushes. Wakko looked back at the scene he'd helped to cause; Babs watching him sadly, her eyes silently screaming that she wished it could have been different, and Yakko still prostrated and exhausted on the floor. If it hadn't been for the wall he was leaning against, Yakko felt he might faint. Wakko swallowed hard and silently took his leave, closing the door quietly behind him.

Jessica, who had heard the whole thing from the kitchen, hurried out into the yard to find Harpo on his knees and sobbing. She helped him to his feet slowly and held onto his left arm. He managed a feeble smile. "You know this is the first time I've cried in seven years?" he whispered to her.

Yakko stood to his feet unsteadily as a few of the dinner guests wandered into the living room to see what all the commotion was. Babs approached him with a Kleenex to dab away some of the blood but he smacked her hand away. "I don't want any help. I'm fine," he spat. Jessica left Harpo at the back door, waving goodbye with an uncertain look in her eye. Harpo re-entered the house that now seemed so much colder than it had just an hour before and witnessed the first fight he'd ever seen between Yakko and Babs. "And Christ, couldn't you have pulled him off me a little sooner?" he was still ranting, "The way he was going, he could've knocked me out cold!"

"Since when do you expect me to fight your battles?" Babs demanded. "The way you two were fighting, you're lucky I got in there at _all._"

"It doesn't matter. I'm bigger. I would have gotten the upper hand eventually."

While Babs seriously doubted this from the looks of Yakko's injuries, she wisely chose to stay silent on the matter. "Come on, let's clean you up," she said, tugging him towards the bathroom. Again, he ripped away.

"Goddammit, I'll do it! I'm not a fucking child!" he growled. Louis Van Buren, Yakko's boss, looked startled from his position behind the couch. He'd _never _heard Yakko speak that way to anyone.

Babs, despite her shock, was also a fighter who could stick up for herself. "I'm only trying to help! When I see the person I love covered in blood, excuse me, but I want to help!"

"I told you _I'm fine!" _Yakko stormed into the hall bathroom and grimaced at the sight of himself. His eye was swollen and turning black; no doubt it would be sightless in a few hours. His nose was still pouring blood and his lip was three times the size it normally was. His whole body was starting to ache and no doubt would be very sore in the morning. Yakko didn't want to admit it, but his brother – his _littler, younger _brother – had licked him fair and square.

He dabbed his cuts and bruises with water, then took off his shirt to find his ribs were already showing signs of bruising. "I should sue the bastard. At least I know I'd win at that," he muttered.

"Don't say things like that," Babs said, handing him some ointment and Band-Aids. She took his bloody shirt and threw it in the wastebasket. "Don't forget, you threw the first punch."

"Well why the hell not! He was asking for it! Don't tell me you don't think he deserved it?" Yakko cried, staring daggers at Babs and hoping she would tell him he was completely justified, because he wasn't altogether sure he had been.

"All I know is, I've known you and your brother for almost twenty years, and I'd _never _seen anything like that," she answered him seriously and looking him straight in the eye. Babs wasn't afraid of anything, least of all the God's honest truth. "You told me you were the Warners' protector, the Warners' own best advocate. So when I see the oldest brother throwing punches at the younger, I do have to question the ethics of that, Yakko. And I think you do too."

"Don't you_ dare _throw that back in my face!" Yakko hollered belligerently and wandered out into the living room shirtless. Harpo sat on the couch watching all this silently while all the guests, sans Van Buren, filed silently out the back door, knowing the party was over. "You don't know anything about us!"

"Right, because I've only known you for seventeen years and have only been living and sleeping with you for fifteen."

"You know, you can be really irritating when you're sarcastic."

"And _you _can be really irritating when you're being hypocritical!" Babs sighed exasperatedly. "Jesus Yakko, we all make mistakes, but don't go around acting like you're justified in everything you do just because you're Yakko Warner." She sighed and disappeared back to the hall bathroom to clean up.

"I _was _justified!" Yakko screamed after her. He saw Harpo sitting innocently on the couch and for no other reason than he was there, Yakko turned to him and shouted, "And what the hell was with you today, huh?"

Harpo, who'd never been spoken to like that by Yakko _ever, _looked at him in a confused way. "What do you mean?"

Rage welled up inside of Yakko. It was not Harpo he was angry at, however, he had had enough of a scare today to provoke insecurity-driven comments. "For Chrissakes Harpo, you made it sound like I've been showing you anti-Wakko propaganda for the past seven years! And now I may never see him again!" Yakko was feeling dangerous now, and chose his words for effect. Lawyer training came in well when pinning the blame on someone else. He pointed steadily down at Harpo, and said evenly, "He may be an asshole but he's my brother. Get it?"

Harpo looked thoroughly shaken. "I…I don't understand, Yakko…"

"I mean you're responsible for _destroying _a relationship that was in place _long _before you were even a thought, kid!"

"I – I'm sorry, I – "

"You _what?" _

"But I thought you wanted me to tell him exactly how I felt," Harpo said. "I needed to get it out of my system. I needed to tell him what I'd been thinking all these years. If you didn't want me to say those things, then I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't bring my brother back," Yakko said quietly through clenched teeth. Harpo looked up at Yakko with an expression that could haunt angels, but Yakko's pride would not let him retract his statements.

"Well it didn't help when you made it sound like you had just gotten stuck with me, like I was just some useless appendage that you didn't want!" Harpo fought back, though on the verge of another round of tears. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"Now you do," Yakko said before he could stop himself. His stomach knotted up at his own words and he felt that he might vomit if he said anything else. Knowing he needed a drink worse than he ever had before in his entire life, Yakko quickly poured himself a glass of brandy and downed it all in one gulp. Harpo sat motionless on the couch while Van Buren brought himself up to his full height.

"Yakko, what the hell are you talking about? You adore this kid!" he protested, giving an accusatory glance at his employee. "How dare you speak to him like that, especially after all he's been through this afternoon!"

"He's learning a lot today, isn't he?" Yakko shot back in an acidic voice, downing another glass. He threw a scalding glance over at Harpo. "He's just Wakko's kid. That's all he ever was and all he'll ever be."

Harpo felt like he'd been socked in the stomach. He had long come to accept that he would probably always just be "Wakko's kid" in the general public's eyes, but he'd believed he was something more – perhaps something better – in his uncle's view. To discover that he was just a commodity to be taken care of and little else shattered his whole world in an instant. In the back of his mind, there had always been a little voice telling him that he was just like his father, just Alballa trash, destined for failure and an intrusion on Yakko and Babs' lives. Kind words and compassion from his almost-aunt and uncle had managed to keep those voices at bay for seven years, but now they came screaming back to life in full fury, stronger than they'd ever been before. All of his internal fears had just been totally, completely, and horrifically realized in an instant. Harpo silently made his way to his room, struggling with all the emotional strength he had left not to burst into tears right then and there. Yakko watched him go and burned with a hatred for what he'd just did and with a hatred for himself. The alcohol and the adrenaline leftover from the fight surged through him and gave the whole scene an edge of surrealism.

Before Yakko knew it, Van Buren was standing right next to him. "Yakko, I don't know what the hell happened here today to make you say the things you just said to a twelve year old kid who means the world to you. I don't know what motivation seized you. But it sure as hell ain't like you."

"Lou, you don't know anything about me," Yakko growled. "You don't know anything about my family."

"Knowledge or no, what I just saw was _wrong. _Jesus man, you're compassionate in the courtroom. I've seen it before. But if this is how you treat your family…"

"Oh, what?" Yakko said sarcastically. "You'll have to fire me? Well, go on then! Fire me over some goddamn kid that I've been taking care of who wasn't even fucking _mine!" _

"And when the hell has that mattered to you?" Van Buren shook his head. "What's gotten into you?"

"I saw the truth today, Lou," Yakko said, pouring another glass. "People always said my brother was better than me and I've proved them all wrong. I was the _good _brother. I was the one who cleaned up after my siblings. I was the one who picked up the tab after one of their rampages. I was the one who calmed down managers, people on the street, and bookies demanding money. I did all of it because I was the only one in the world who would."

"Yeah? And what do you want? A congratulations?"

"My brother comes storming back into our lives today and wants credit he doesn't deserve! And what's more, he wants his kid back who has practically become mine! I fed Harpo, clothed him, housed him, and sent him to school for the past seven years, and now suddenly Wakko thinks he can just waltz back in here and take him back? It shows my brother hasn't changed at all. I'm still just his fall-back guy. Nothing's changed."

"Yakko, I heard the whole damn soliloquy of your brother, and it didn't _sound _like he was using you for his fall-back guy. I heard a person who had made a lot of mistakes and who was ready own up to them and to repent for them. That's a noble thing, man. A helluva lot more noble than someone as smart as you trying to justify screaming horrible things at a twelve year old as simple anger towards his father's past actions. You can't live your life holding the past against people, Yakko. Especially against a kid who had nothing to do with it."

"I'm tired of playing the fool, Lou. I did it because – because – "He stopped short of saying what was really on his mind – _Because Wakko had done something that not even I could do; he brought a kid into this world who became more precious to me than anyone. _Wakko had upstaged him for the last time in a way that neither of them could have foresaw. With Wakko not present, Harpo was just the most convenient target for Yakko's anger. "Because it was high time he knew what he really meant to me!" Yakko said, not fooling anyone, least himself.

Van Buren shook his head. "You _are _a fool, if you let your anger towards Wakko override your love for Harpo." He looked steadily at Yakko. "Yakko, I don't think you shouldn't come in to work for a while. Take some time and figure things out."

"Things are crystal clear already, Lou," he said. "I quit."

"What? I didn't mean quit. You're the best lawyer in Toontown besides Babs. Why would you want to leave?"

"Because why should people ask _my _advice?" Yakko cried, throwing his glass in the sink and smashing it to pieces. "Let's face it, I've got an ego the size of a small planet and I'm so used to cleaning up after others that it's become easy to blame all my problems on other people. I didn't realize it before today, but I'm the worst guy on _earth _to ask for advice."

"That's not true."

"It's true enough. Now get out. You're not my boss anymore so I don't have to ask politely," Yakko said evenly, pointing to the door. "I won't darken your door again. Please extend me the same courtesy."

Van Buren stiffened slightly and made his exit, keeping his eye on Yakko the whole time, who averted his gaze. The door slammed and Babs finally emerged from the hall bathroom. "What was all that yelling?" Babs said, carrying bloody paper towels to the wastebasket. "I was in there cleaning up your carnage and I heard shouting."

"Nothing," Yakko said quietly with a downcast gaze. "It was nothing, Babs."


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I'm sure you're all thirsty for my blood after that last chapter, but writing is no fun if you don't take a few roads less traveled every now and then. Trust me. The Island Hopper will make good. It needed to be done, but it was damn hard to write and emotionally draining to read (and to edit, which is why this update is a double header – this chapter was holding up the others that are already done) so I promise no more super-angst. There's enough emotional turmoil in the world without unduly subjecting yourself to it in fiction. Thanks for the reviews.

Wakko Warner sat in a forlorn looking bar on the outskirts of Toontown, nursing his first beer in seven years and wondering why it didn't taste better. He'd almost managed to talk himself out of drinking alcohol on this first night of his second chance, but the throbbing in his head demanded some kind of remedy and so Wakko ordered the only known treatment that was quick and cheap – a Fuji brand beer. The liquid inside wasn't the cool, crisp bubbly stuff he remembered; now that Wakko was completely sober, the beer tasted bitter and stale. As he pushed it away and ordered a Coke, he had never been so grateful for a revolting glass of alcohol. It meant that perhaps he wasn't a lost cause after all.

He had come off the fight better than his older brother. Although his sides hurt and his nose was swollen, he didn't look much different from the other disenchanted toons in the bar who sported various injuries sustained in street skirmishes. He had cleaned himself up in the grimy bathroom in the kind of oily light that shines from the truly hellish places on earth, mopping up blood and tenderly dabbing soft, swollen spots on his face. Wakko had returned to the bar, after ducking out of the sight of a few of his old cronies, and had been staring into space for the better part of an hour when he heard,

"Hey, are you Wakko Warner?"

Wakko turned to see a human with shaggy hair and shorts gawking at him, clutching a photo in his hand. Inwardly, Wakko sighed. He hated meeting fans these days. They always expected him to be the Wakko Warner they used to see on TV instead of the real life failure he really was. "Yeah," Wakko said slowly, resisting the urge to say, _I used to be Wakko Warner. _

"Hell, I been looking all over for you," the man said, taking a barstool next to Wakko and shoving the picture in his back pocket. "Been in every damn restaurant, hotel and casino in this town trying to find you. If you're so famous, why the hell are you in a place like this? I only came in here to use the bathroom. Just luck I spotted you."

"Who the hell are you?" Wakko said, confused.

"Oh, sorry. Guess I _should _introduce myself." The man stuck his hand out and smiled. "Name's Red. I work for your sister."

Wakko nearly spit his Coke out onto the bar. "My _sister?" _

"Yep. Little lady named Dot Warner. I'm her right hand man, and I've come a long way to find you, buddy. Hell, I didn't even _need_ the goddamn photo. You two are practically twins."

Wakko reluctantly shook the man's hand. "What does Dot want with me? I haven't spoken to her in almost fifteen years."

"All in good time, man, all in good time. What's that you got there? A Coke? Hell, buddy, let me get you a beer. You're gonna need one once I tell you why I'm here…"

"I don't want one."

Red spotted the half-empty bottle of Fuji on the bar top next to Wakko. "No wonder you don't want any. Fuji is piss water. Let me get you a real beer." Red signaled to the bartender. "Hey barkeep! Couple of Red Stripes, please!" Red turned to Wakko. "Bet you're wondering why I'm looking for a has-been toon, eh?"

Wakko resisted the urge to punch him right in his mouth. "I'm _wondering_ why in the hell you're such an asshole."

"Whoa, buddy," Red said with an easy smile, opening two beers for them. "You're not going to think I'm an asshole when I tell you how much money you could make off a deal your little sis has cooked up."

"How do you know my sister? She disappeared fifteen years ago."

"Yeah, and I know where she disappeared to. Place called Little Trouble Island in the Dutch West Indies."

Wakko cocked an eyebrow. "Dot's in the Caribbean?"

"Where else? And man, she is one little businesswoman, I'll tell you that, brother. Always got a scheme going to make money. And her latest one is a beaut. That's where you come in. You know anything about sunken treasure?"

"No."

"Dot cooked up a scheme to find a lost pirate ship that sank in 1718 with a shitload of gold on it. Making a long story short, we found it last week. Man, did we find it!"

"So what's this got to do with me?"

"That ship's loot is buried under a huge coral bed that grew on the wreck over time. We need to blast the coral off of the wreck to get the treasure beneath it. Dot says you know a lot about stuff that goes boom."

Wakko shook his head. "That was a long time ago. I haven't messed with that stuff in years."

"So what? You did it once. You can do it again. I'm sure knowledge of munitions and arms is kind of like never forgetting how to ride a bike. Plus, it don't seem like you're _busy _at the moment. What have you got to lose?"

"Look buddy, I've got better things to do, like trying to put my life back together. I don't need to be doing anything that could get me landed back in prison."

"Hey, there are good risks and bad risks, right? A good risk is one where the benefit outweighs the risk. Think about all the money you could make off of this thing, as opposed to the slight chance that we'll get caught."

"People are sure as hell gonna notice an explosion big enough to blow a coral bed to smithereens!"

"We can pull this off Wakko, all we need is _you. _Think about it. You got any _money _to start this so-called new life? What the hell kind of job can a toon get with a criminal record around here anyway? Face it Wakko, this is a good risk for a guy in your position. And when we've got all we want and you have your cut of the treasure, you're done. You can hop back to Toontown and buy a nice penthouse on the swank side of town. Never have another worry for the rest of your life. No one even has to know about it."

Wakko sighed and muttered, "I'm just a blight to everyone I've ever known. I'm not worth anything. Why should I?"

"Because Dot thinks you're worth something," Red said in a serious tone looking at Wakko soberly. "Look, I know Dot. She ain't no fool. She wouldn't ask you to help if she didn't think you were the only guy on earth who could help us out. I've never heard her mention her family before this. I figured she didn't have one. Hell, _I _don't. The expatriate lifestyle doesn't support families very well. You must be important to her because she wanted you and only you, bud. No one else would do. I've never seen that from her before. She's taking a risk on you because she knows what she's talking about. From what I hear, it's a good risk. And I'd be willing to bet you're our man. Dot knows what she's doing. Dot believes in you. Come on down to the islands, brother. Better things await you there." Red smiled good-naturedly.

Wakko couldn't deny it sounded very tempting. A little sunshine, explosions and treasure sounded great after a seven year stay in a prison. If the crazy scheme did work out, he could finally buy a home and a little respect, and starting building his life with Harpo again. A thought came to him suddenly. "I'll do it on one condition."

"Name it."

Wakko shifted in his seat. "I've got a pal stuck in prison at the moment. Name's Buster. He knows as much about this stuff as I do and he's got more guts. You help me break him out of prison, and I'll go anywhere you lead me."

"Jesus! Two minutes ago you were worried about being caught by the DNR for a minor charge of environmental destruction, and now you're telling me you want to break some guy out of jail? Are you fucking crazy?"

"Yes," Wakko said, grabbing his coat. "But that's why you need me."

Red sighed. "Dammit. How do I get myself into shit like this?"

"We're Warners, Red," Wakko said with a grin. "We're _all _like this."

Red and Wakko stepped out into the cool evening from the stifling atmosphere of the bar. Wakko didn't see a small figure crouched in the corner and very nearly tripped over him. Figuring the poor guy was just another out of work toon, Wakko quickly fished a couple of bills out of his pocket and stuffed them in the person's fist. "There you go, buddy. Get yourself a cup of coffee. It's getting cold out here."

"Dad?" a small voice said.

Wakko doubled back and squinted down at the figure in the darkness. "Harpo?"

Harpo got to his feet in the near darkness, drawing his arms around himself for warmth. "Thought I might find you here."

"How'd you figure that?"

"Because it's the worst bar in Toontown, Dad," Harpo said evenly. "Seemed like your kind of place."

Wakko gritted his teeth.. "I guess I deserved that," he muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets. "What're you doing down here so late, little man? This isn't a good part of town." Wakko took off his coat and placed it around Harpo's shoulders. "You'll get mugged."

"I…I wanted to see you, I guess," Harpo said slowly.

"It wasn't for the 2am blues set, hm?" Wakko said with a smile, crouching down to his son's height. "But don't tell me you came all the way down here to see me. I can see right through that, kiddo." In the streetlight, Wakko caught the glint of tears in Harpo's eyes and the quivering bottom lip and reached out instinctively, pulling his son into a protective embrace. "What's wrong?" he asked in a soft voice just above a whisper.

"Yakko…he…well, he…"

"Here, calm down." Wakko led Harpo over to a bench nearby and sat him down. The coat looked huge on Harpo's small frame in the skewed late-night moonlight of the street and Wakko resisted the urge to run his hand through Harpo's hair like he used to when his son was scared. "All right. Tell me."

Harpo wiped his nose fiercely on the back of his sleeve, not wanting the tears to come but also not being able to get the enraged voice of Yakko out of his head. He shook his head heatedly because he knew any voice he spoke with at this point would sound frail and frightened. He didn't want to appear that way in front of his estranged father.

"I'll tell you a story to calm you down, all right?" Wakko said, smiling as warmly as he could. Harpo nodded, grateful that he was not being called upon to speak just yet. "When you were just a little guy, there was a family of birds that had nested in our gutter. I don't know much about birds, but they were pretty. They were all blue and had black chests, and their beaks were this bright, bright orange. Their noses were as pointy as your mother's." Harpo laughed feebly. "And living in Alballa, there wasn't much in the way of natural foliage. So the birds had made their nest out of old scraps of coupons, candy wrappers and flyers from the gas station. I tell you Harpo, it was the ugliest damn nest I'd ever seen. But it was their home, and this family of birds loved it. One day when I went out I heard some peeping coming from the nest, and I looked and saw that there were about five little baby birds. They were falling all over each other trying to get at the worm that their mama was hanging over their heads. I ran inside and got you so I could show you the nest. Now, I don't know how much you know about your early life, but you didn't smile much. It really had to be something special to make you smile, and I was always trying to think up ways to see that smile of yours because it made my day. You weren't much for cartoons or for my antics, but Harpo, the second I lifted you up onto my shoulders and pointed at those baby birds, you broke into a huge grin. I think deep down you knew that you and those birds weren't much different – they came from a less than perfect home, but they were smart, and they were going to learn how to fly away bigger and better things. And you did. You flew away, just like those little birds. That's why you smiled, Harpo. That's why you smiled."

Harpo sniffed and smiled weakly. "That was a good story," he said softly.

"Hey, I hate to break up this Kodak moment, but if we're gonna do this, we need to do it now," Red called from the curb.

Wakko sighed heavily and looked down at Harpo. "I've got to go for a little while," he said slowly.

"Where are you going?"

"Far away from Yakko and far away from Toontown."

"Take me with you," Harpo demanded at once. Wakko looked down at him in surprise.

"Take you with me? Toontown is your home. And what about Yakko and Babs?"

"I want to go with you, Dad."

"Son, take it from me, you're better off here. Plus, what's with this change in attitude? You couldn't stand the sight of me this afternoon."

"I haven't forgiven you. I haven't forgotten, either. This is no way justifies things. I just…I just need to get away from here as bad as you do." Harpo looked somberly up at his father. "Please Dad. I can't explain it now. But please trust me that I know what I'm doing. Let me come."

Wakko studied his son's face for a long moment then nodded slowly. "All right. If that's what you want. But realize that this isn't some carefree adventure, Harpo. Your uncle was right. I'm no saint and I'm not going to pretend that I am. You're going to see a side of life I didn't ever want you to see. But I don't have the authority to tell you what to do; I haven't earned that right. In this world, Harpo, you have to make your own decisions and your own mistakes. I'd die for you, kiddo, but I won't lie and say this will be easy. You're either in it for the long run or you stay home. It's up to you."

Harpo swallowed hard but nodded numbly. "I'm in, Dad. Let's get out of here."

Before hotwiring a car and speeding away towards the desert, Wakko scribbled a quick note to Yakko and stuck it in a post box on the corner:

_Yakko, _

_Harp's with me. He came of his own accord. _

_I love him too, and swear I'll keep him safe. _

_Wakko_

_PS. No man is an island, but we're in a Little Trouble. _


	15. Chapter 15

The local history of the Blue Martini had a long, sometimes sordid past, but never a dull one. Built in 1921 on the crossroads of Main and Bernhardt in downtown Toontown, the sagging wooden building had always attracted a myriad of toons from all walks of life. Half of those in attendance each night were degenerates and half were stars, roaming the winding interior of the ancient structure that had hosted some of the most incredible, and sometimes the most heartbreaking, moments of many toons' lives. The Blue Martini seemed to a have life unto itself, almost as if it were completely unconcerned with the cares that toons brought with them into the interior; doors shifted locations frequently, as did things like floorboards, tables and chairs. Some nights the piano was on the ceiling and some nights the mirrors were on the floor. Some nights the speakers would refuse to play any record that wasn't jazz; other nights rock or blues. One was never quite sure what the night would bring when spending it at the Blue Martini.

A fire in 1933 had nearly destroyed the entire building. All who gazed upon her the night of the disaster swore she was gone for good, only to return the next morning to find the Martini standing tall as if nothing had touched her in all the years of history. Inside, toons had dreamed, drank, and died; some had had affairs, some arranged deals, some rocketed to stardom while others faded into obscurity. It had been a home to nobodies, a home to superstars, and a homage to all those who came before them; the Martini almost seemed to taunt those within her, as if daring them to believe that the night would last forever and that they might, too. Ghosts of the past were the constant company of the souls who gravitated to the Martini. It was said that every toon who had ever existed had walked through those doors at least once in their lives and always let a little bit of themselves behind when they went.

Yakko hadn't been inside since the night he watched his brother leave in handcuffs, screaming desperately for him to help while Yakko drifted to the back of the crowd as unnoticeably as he could. Yakko had fiercely promised himself that he would never again enter the place unless something worse had happened and he was in need of that special kind of therapy that only the Blue Martini could provide to a heartbroken toon. Tonight was the night.

The place didn't look much different than when he'd last been there, almost fifteen years ago, and probably didn't look noticeably different from when it first opened its doors in 1921. Like a divine grace, the Blue Martini was meant to be. It had seen some of the best and worst years of the Warners' lives, and Yakko didn't take that sentimentality lightly. His head danced with memories of the times he'd had between these walls, of all the sorrows and joys that it had seen in the saga of the Warner family. Reminiscences came quickly now and without aid. People, ideas, and snippets of conversations he hadn't thought of in years cascaded through his being roughly and devoid of censure. He sighed into his drink and didn't notice a faded cartoon cat drift towards him.

"Well, Yakko Warner. Never thought I'd see you in the Blue Martini ever again."

Yakko looked up at the speaker and gasped. "Gloria?"

Gloria smiled faintly and sat down, a cigarette in her left hand. "The one and only."

"My God. I haven't seen you in years."

"Strange how fate brings people back together, hm?"

Yakko watched with amazement the trademark Gloria smile as it curled up around her lips. "You haven't changed a bit," Yakko said a little breathlessly.

Gloria had been the only other woman besides Babs that Yakko Warner had ever seriously considered spending the rest of his life with. Women had come and gone, leaving behind little more than a few indifferent memories in their wake, but Gloria had inhabited Yakko's imagination long after they stopped seeing each other almost twenty years ago. Deep down, he knew that if Babs hadn't come along, he would have pined for Gloria for the rest of his life; he also knew that pining would have done no good. Gloria was out of his reach – always had been, always would be. She belonged to no one but herself. Over the years, more toons than is possible to count had fallen desperately in love with her only to be brushed off by the toon royalty of the 1920's. Her sultry eyes and mystic aura was like a magnet for toon males, and Yakko had simply been one more who'd been ensnared.

"I have changed, and you know it," Gloria said, stubbing out her cigarette and lighting another. "You can practically see through me."

Yakko studied Gloria's faded form and grimaced. "So your outlines are a little hazy. But you – I mean, _you _– are exactly the same. Why not go get re-inked, honey?"

"Why bother?" she said softly, looking at him straight in the eye.

Yakko raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'why bother'? If a toon doesn't go get re-inked every now and then, they'll fade away. You want that to happen?"

"I don't want to last forever."

"Come on. You never even got colored. You said 'no' at the height of color re-inking in the 1950's."

"I was drawn black and white, and I'll fade black and white," Gloria said stoically. "I've never given a damn what the other toons are doing."

"Yeah, but, you must only be on your third or fourth ink. I mean, that's antique for someone who's been around as long as you, Gloria. You'll crack and fade. You can't tell me that after all these years you're going to let yourself fade," Yakko said hurriedly. "You're a legend, Gloria. The world needs you."

"Why do you think they call us old toons 'washed up'? Looks like we've been through a washer a few times, right? Honey, I'm done with cartoons. I just don't want to do them anymore. Every time I get re-inked, suddenly I'm forced into a 'come-back special' and I have to talk about me and Scooby's old cartoons. I'm tired of that, Yakko. Toons are always talking about the 'good old days.' No computer generations. No color. No toon laws. Hell, those were awful days. We were worked to death. Our animators didn't know shit about us, and we sure as hell didn't know shit about ourselves. Toon physics is a weird and complicated thing, and things weren't as flawless and painless as they are today. Mistakes were made in the old style of animation that cost some toons their lives. Why would I want to relieve those days? Anyway, you know what they say, baby. 'Glorious Black and White,' eh? Well, I'm just _Gloria, _Black and White. See?" She exhaled slowly. "But no one ever brings anything small into the Martini. I'm just part of the background now, but you – why are you here?"

Yakko averted his gaze. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Oh, but you want to talk about ancient history, hm?"

"You and Babs were the only women I ever felt like I could talk to," he responded with a smile. "Why did it never work between us, hm?"

"Two different generations of toons, Yak," Gloria said. "Scooby and I were drawn to be together. That's a powerful thing. Leading anyone else on would have just been unfair on my part." Gloria smiled, eager to change the subject. "You and Babs still together then?" Yakko nodded and she smiled wider. "You two compliment each other. I was relieved when you gave me up and found her. When are you going to marry that girl?"

He shifted nervously. "I…I don't know, Gloria. Maybe never."

"Never is a long time. Believe me, I know. What's with this attitude, anyway? The Yakko Warner I know used to tell everyone exactly what they should do; he never had trouble making up his mind about a thing."

"Things have changed."

Gloria looked at him strangely. "Why do I have the feeling this has something to do with your brother and sister?"

"Uncanny," Yakko said with a small smile. "First time you've seen me in fifteen years, and you know exactly what's on my mind."

"I've been around for a while," Gloria said. "I know a problem when I see it. Especially when it pertains to the Warners."

Yakko sighed painfully. "I made a mess of everything, Gloria. Just a fucking mess."

"Then I suggest you do something to fix it."

"Gee, thanks, I never thought of that," Yakko said sarcastically.

"Obviously."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"It means if you really wanted to do something about it, you wouldn't be sitting on your ass at the Blue Martini talking to an ex-girlfriend and feeling sorry for yourself, that's what." Gloria stubbed her cigarette out. "Don't be like all the other toons in this town, Yakko. Most of them are whiny assholes who never do anything to improve their situation. The reason I liked you so many years ago is because you weren't like that. I'm sure Babs feels the same way. What would she think of you, sitting here and whining into your drink?"

Yakko didn't have a response for that, so instead he spat, "You don't know anything about my situation. You don't know anything about my family."

"I know a helluva lot more than you think I do, so don't even try to use that excuse on me. It doesn't protect you from any part of your emotions. You should know that by now," Gloria said evenly. "I remember the last time you were here, Yakko. I'm sure you do too. Your little brother had nearly killed some guy sitting at the bar because the guy had insulted him about something incidental. When a toon is expecting a beating, he remains unhurt – but take a toon by surprise, and he's as vulnerable as any human. The guy had said the wrong thing to the wrong person. I don't remember what he said to Wakko. What was it about, Yakko?" she asked softly.

"Me," Yakko replied in a shaky voice, with his face in his hands. "It was about me. Please, Gloria, let's not do this…"

"Come on, baby, you have to get past this," Gloria whispered to him. "If you don't, it'll haunt you the rest of your days. It has controlled you too long already. Come on now. The guy said something to your brother about you."

"About my not having any talent," Yakko whispered back. "Said I talked too much because I had no talent. I was making up for my lack of talent. It's what everyone said, Gloria. Everyone said it."

"Not everyone, Yakko. Not even close."

"Yes, yes they did…"

"No. You've had that guy's voice in your head for fifteen years, haven't you? That voice has reverberated off every part of your brain, making it seem like every toon alive said it. Every insecurity, every mistake all comes back to that voice, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"And your brother knew it wasn't true. He didn't handle it in the best way, Yakko, but he handled it in the way he knew how. Wakko was famous for smashing things up. That's how he made his name. Smashing things up."

"Yeah. He smashed that guy up pretty good."

"It's all he knew how to do. So he did it. And he didn't stop until the cops showed up, did he?"

"No. Just kept smashing him up."

"Because that drunk, dumbass of a toon said something he shouldn't have about Wakko Warner's older brother. When the cops showed up they handcuffed your brother, and your brother started yelling for you. Didn't he?"

"To help him. He started yelling at me to help him. And I didn't. I just let him go…"

"Of all the things your brother did in this town, the one that really got him in trouble was what happened right here. And he just kept yelling in that hollow voice for you. I was sitting with you, remember?"

"Yeah."

"And they dragged him away. You finished your martini and you left. Haven't seen you since then."

"I hate myself for it. The one time I should have helped him…the one time he was doing something for _me _instead of for _himself_…and I left him."

"Yakko." Yakko looked up in Gloria's face. Her expression was compassionate. "You didn't leave anyone. He came back, didn't he? That's why you're here tonight. This is the only place you felt you could come to. The place where this all started."

Yakko swallowed a sob. "Jesus Gloria, I didn't even tell him that I had missed him all these years," he said softly.

Gloria held Yakko's face in her hands, not allowing him to look away. "He forgave you, Yakko. _He_ forgave _you_. Now you have to forgive yourself. You _must _if you are to fix anything in your life and move on. Your guilt is what is tearing your whole family apart. You want to help your family? Say you forgive yourself. And mean it."

"I can't…"

"You _can._"

"I'm the older brother! Abandonment of my younger brother isn't what I'm supposed to do."

"If it hadn't been here, it would have been somewhere else. If he came back, he must be ready to turn his life around. He must not hold you accountable anymore. Can't you see? This is everyone's second chance. Everyone's. Even yours."

"But – "

"Enough of this. This is not you, Yakko Warner. If you want to fix this – the only way is to forgive yourself first." Gloria sighed. "Let go, Yakko. It's not worth living with anymore."

Something in the honesty of Gloria's words sent a wave of relief over Yakko. He looked over to the bar where the whole ugly scene had gone down that had been tormenting him for so many years. He swallowed hard; if he was to help himself, Harpo and Wakko, he couldn't let that night preoccupy him any longer. It had been fifteen very long years. And it had to stop tonight. It was either forgiveness or the end of the Warner family. "Ok, Gloria," Yakko said in a scratchy voice. "I forgive myself."

It immediately felt as though the weight of a thousand moons had suddenly been lifted from Yakko Warner's shoulders, and he smiled from the relief. The room instantly appeared brighter and more alive; Gloria didn't look quite so faded. She smiled. "It changes the world when a toon forgives themselves," she said. "I don't know why, but it's true. Now you can do this, Yakko. Now you can do what you need to do."

"I have a lot to set right," Yakko admitted, grabbing his coat and leaving his drink unfinished. "But I bet you _anything _that the oldest Warner can do it."

"I know he can," she answered with a grin.

"One thing – promise you'll get re-inked."

The worried look on Yakko's face touched a deep part of Gloria. No one had showed real concern for her in decades. She smiled. "All right. On one condition."

"Name it."

"Marry Babs."

Yakko smiled widely. "Deal, Gloria. It's a deal."


	16. Chapter 16

The desert glows with muted colors. For most, the word "desert" conjures up a wasteland of sand and brush, but for the dwellers of the badlands of the world, the horizon burst with purples, reds and blues. Mountains in the distance are a pale lavender, while the sky is a deeper turquoise than one who has not seen it cannot imagine. At night, oranges and deep maroons streak their way across skies larger than the scope of most people's imaginations.

A stark white building rose from the flat ground like some strange desert weed that had grown there. This was the infamous prison especially for toons, inconveniently located in the middle of the western desert. Harpo saw it loom up over the horizon long before the stolen car made its way to the back of the structure. A jail break was something he'd only ever seen on TV, and to be participating in one wasn't something Harpo could honestly say he thought he'd ever do. But here he was, bouncing along in the backseat with his estranged father, tearing across a flat plain of desert in an old convertible Wakko had hotwired back in Toontown, being driven by a curly haired, swearing human in the front seat.

"That's it! Right there!" Wakko yelled above the wind to Red. Red immediately slammed on the breaks and the car came to a full stop.

"Look, we got to have a plan of action. We can't just show up and say, 'Hello, we're here to break a dangerous toon criminal out of jail. Could you please get out of the way?'" Red looked again at the foreboding structure. "You sure we can do this?"

"Sure. Never thought I'd have to use this again, but never say never, eh?" Wakko said with a smile, pulling a large sack out of the trunk. "My old gag bag. Never used to go anywhere without it." He hulked it into the backseat and began to rummage through it. Harpo watched him with a hint of curiosity. "Should have everything in here we're going to need. Rope, grappling hook, crowbar, explosives…"

"_Explosives!" _Red cried. "Are you _insane? _We gotta be _quiet, _man! I don't want to go to jail! And we're a convenient place for that! All they gotta do is strap some handcuffs on us and toss us in!"

"Toons aren't quiet, buddy," Wakko said, not looking up from his gag bag. "I'm sorry, but it's the only way we can conceivably do this. Those walls ain't thin, you know what I mean?"

"So what do you propose we do?"

Wakko emerged triumphantly from his sack holding a couple of huge sticks of dynamite. "I say we blast, then run like hell."

Red shook his head and turned off the car. "Toons…" he muttered.

Wakko looked down at Harpo seriously. "Harpo, you stay here. This isn't going to be easy and so the less people we have to worry about, the better. Ok?"

"Ok Dad," Harpo said, looking up at his father earnestly. He bit his lip and said quickly, "Dad? Look…be careful, ok?"

Wakko smiled and nodded. "We'll try."

Moments later Red and Wakko had disappeared from Harpo's view, running like mad towards the white structure. He sighed and rested his chin on the door frame. The night was eerily silent. It wasn't like Toontown, where there was always the backdrop of music or laughter. It wasn't even like Alballa, with the constant din of the factory's massive machines churning long into the night. Harpo listened carefully, but there was not a sound to be heard; it was almost as if life didn't exist here. It was hard to imagine that just a quarter mile away in the white building there were hundreds of toons locked up in tiny cells.

Harpo was ripped from his thoughts by a gigantic explosion off in the distance. Compared to the deathly silence of the moments previous, it sounded like the entire world had imploded, and Harpo found himself shaking and clinging to the seatback in shock. His heart racing, he climbed into the front seat and squinted into the distance, trying to catch a glimpse of running figures. He heard them before he saw them, his father's voice shouting, "Start the car, Harpo! Start the car!"

He immediately sat down and tried to turn the car on, only to find that the battery was near dead and the wires sticking out from under the dash were beginning to spark. Trying not to panic, Harpo jammed the wires together in a half-frantic manner, praying the car would turn over. The shouts were coming nearer and he could hear blaring sirens in the background. Just when he thought he was going to burst into frustrated tears the engine roared to life. Harpo sat up just in time to see three darkened figures leap into the car, with one of them shouting, "Step on it! Quick!"

"B-But I'm only twelve!" he protested.

"_Go!" _came the booming, unanimous cry from the passengers. Harpo reacted instinctively, slamming his foot down on the accelerator as far as it would go. The car spun its wheels for just a second before taking off down the dirt road, spewing mud and pebbles in its wake. Harpo could hear guards' voices in the background and he silently urged the convertible to go faster. No one spoke for a tense ten minutes until they were sure they weren't being followed by the jailors, then a voice unfamiliar to Harpo let out a thundering laugh.

"We made it! We fucking made it!" the voice shouted above the growl of the engine. "The wild boys of Toontown pull off another amazing victory!"

"It ain't a victory 'til we reach the state line!" Red's nervous voice replied. He climbed over to the front seat. "Ok, Harp, I'll take over." Harpo switched places with Red and turned to see a rough looking, blue-eared rabbit sitting next to his father in the back seat.

"Good job, Harp. Knew you could do it," Wakko said, mussing his son's hair affectionately. He pointed to the blue rabbit. "Harpo, this is Buster Bunny. He's my best friend."

"Nice to meet you," Harpo replied, feeling it was strange to hear polite words coming out of his mouth in such an unusual setting.

"So this is Harpo." Buster smiled widely. "Kid, your dad only has good things to say about you. You must be somethin' special."

Harpo smiled sheepishly. "Thanks," he whispered.

"So what are we up to, hm?" Buster said brightly. "What's first? A little gambling? Few drinks? Point me in the direction of women and liquor, and I'll be fine."

"Treasure," Wakko said simply. "We're heading south, Buster. My sister's waiting for us. You and I are going to do a little demolition job, and if we do it well enough, you'll never have to worry about where your gambling money is coming from ever again."

"Yeah? What's the kid doing here, then?" Buster said, throwing a sideways glance at Harpo. "This doesn't sound like playtime, man. Isn't this a little dangerous to be a family affair?"

"I'm here because I want to be," Harpo piped up. "I…I really don't have anywhere else to go at the moment."

Wakko looked at his son a little strangely but didn't ask questions. He was always of the opinion that a person wouldn't talk about anything until they were good and ready. He nodded. "Harp's a tough kid. He's been through a lot. Nothing doing for a little Caribbean sunshine, eh?" he laughed.

"It's a whole different world down there, kid," Red told him from the front seat. "You have to be _absolutely sure._ This is a dangerous game we're playing here.There's no jet plane home, got it?"

Harpo pursed his lips. "I know. But I want to go. I know I'm young. But I'm strong. And I'm smart. I promise I won't let you guys down."

Wakko smiled. "There you go. The kid wants to go."

Red nodded. "All right then. Next stop: Little Trouble Island!"


	17. Chapter 17

Yakko arrived back at he and Babs' house just as the sun was rising on a new day. He'd spent the better part of the night walking around Toontown in deep concentration, just barely acknowledging the waves and calls from friends and clients in cafes or restaurants as he passed by. Things were beginning to come together in his mind and he was anxious to apologize to everyone he'd hurt in the previous evening. Harpo included.

He took the steps up to the house two at a time, and burst through the door with a booming, "Babs? Harpo? Where are you?"

"Yakko! Thank God," Babs said, jumping up from the couch where two police officers were seated. "Where have you been?"

Yakko looked at the officers and Babs in alarm. "What's going on? What happened?"

"Answer my question first," Babs said, crossing her arms.

"I was at the Blue Martini, and then I took a long walk. Why?"

Babs sighed, irritated, and began to pace. "Figures you'd go get a drink and take a leisurely walk until the sun rose, while Harpo is nowhere to be found."

"Harpo?" Yakko's look immediately changed to one of mild panic. "You mean he isn't here?"

"No, and hasn't been since his father left last night." Babs looked worriedly at the officers. "I called the police after scouring the town and calling everyone we knew. No one has seen him."

"We've got alerts out to the other officers to keep an eye out for someone of his description," said one of the officers. Yakko at once recognized him as Dale and the officer sitting next to him as Robin, two friends Babs and he had made in the course of the extensive dealings with the police as per their law work. Dale sighed. "I'm real sorry, you two. Harpo's a good kid. I know you love him a lot."

"Look, from what Babs has told us, he didn't have any real reason to run," Robin said, looking up with a concern look on her face at both of them. She turned her attention towards Yakko. "Yakko, I'm sorry to have to say this, but at this point we're not ruling out Wakko as the kidnapper."

"Wakko? A kidnapper? Are you insane?" Yakko cried.

"From what we could tell, Wakko came here last night and sort of upset everyone. It's not out of the realm of possibility that he didn't come back later in the night and take his son with him." She bit her lip. "We all know Wakko's done some crazy stuff in the past. Lord knows Dale and I have been called out more than once to settle some dispute concerning him. It's not impossible that he wasn't so angry that he'd do something like that. Especially if he had a few drinks in him."

"Of course he had a few drinks in him," Dale said matter-of-factly, closing his notebook and standing up. "This is Wakko Warner we're talking about here. If it's all right with you two, I'm going to go ahead and issue a warrant for his arrest."

Babs turned away and made her way as quickly as she could to the kitchen. She didn't want anyone to see her tears.

Yakko watched her go and then turned to Dale and Robin with a pleading look in his eye. "Look, he didn't do it. I _know _he didn't do it."

"We don't _know _anything. If we did, Harpo might still be here." Dale and Robin began to walk towards the door. "I'd suggest you two stay here, just in case he calls or comes back. We'll tap the phone lines and station a few officers in a car across the street. Above all, stay calm. I know Wakko is sort of screwed up, but I doubt he'd physically harm anyone, least of all a twelve year old boy."

"Look," Yakko said in a desperate voice, running his hands over his face. "I think I know why Harpo left."

Dale and Robin stopped. Babs poked her head out of the kitchen, mopping up her tears with a Kleenex.

"And I don't want my brother to get into any trouble when I know he's innocent." Yakko looked away. "And when I know that it's my fault, not his." He sighed and began to pace. "Look…I said some things to Harpo last night that I shouldn't have. I didn't mean them. I was upset after Wakko left. I guess I just needed someone to vent my frustration to."

Babs ventured out into the living room with a curious look on her face. "What do you mean, Yakko?"

Her earnestness produced shame in Yakko, and he found he couldn't look any of them in the eye. "I blamed him for ruining the relationship between my brother and I. I made it sound like he was just some worthless kid we'd taken in because we'd had no other choice, that he was just as bad as his father, and that we'd never really wanted him."

Babs, despite herself, slapped Yakko sharply across the face. "How _dare _you," she whispered in a dangerous voice. "After all he'd been through, how _dare _you feed him lies like that."

"Sounds like a runaway case after all!" Robin said brightly. "I'll go ahead and cancel that warrant…"

"I know it was wrong. But being angry won't help us find Harpo," Yakko whispered back.

"Look…ah…you two obviously have a lot of talking to do," Dale said in an embarrassed voice. "We'll keep on the lookout for him, all right? We'll just be going." With that, the two officers ducked out of the house as quickly as they could, leaving Yakko and Babs alone once more.

"I can't _believe _you!" Babs screamed. "First, you beat the shit out of your little brother, and then you tell Harpo that we never wanted him in the first place? What's _wrong _with you?"

Yakko sighed darkly. "I guess you should have stayed with Buster after all, huh?" he whispered in a pained voice.

Babs hesitated only a moment before burying her face in Yakko's chest as they both began to openly cry.

"Don't say things like that," she whispered.

"I didn't mean to say those things to Harpo. And now he could be anywhere. He could be hurt, or – "

"Look, we'll find him. He's as much our son as Wakko's."

"I can't believe they were going to arrest Wakko," Yakko said as he laughed mirthlessly. "And even the two best lawyers in Toontown wouldn't have been able to help him."

The mail slot on the front door suddenly clicked and in dropped a few pieces of mail. Babs stared at them for a moment before realizing that one of the pieces had handwriting on it. Instinctively, she shot out of Yakko's arms and grabbed the piece of paper from the floor. "Yakko," she said, after reading it quickly. "Harpo is with Wakko."

Over the next hour, they carefully scrutinized the letter and its postscript. "I don't get this postscript," Yakko said, scratching his head. "Is it a riddle or something?"

"Little trouble…little trouble…no man is an island…" Babs muttered, thinking hard. "Why does that ring a bell?"

"At least he's safe," Yakko said, mostly to himself. "Thank God for that."

"Little Trouble Island!" Babs suddenly crowed. "That's _it!" _

"What?"

"I once had a client who told me he had been hiding from the police in a place called 'Little Trouble Island.' I asked him why he had hidden there, and he told me it was a hang out for criminals in the Caribbean because it was so obscure, no one knew where it was and no one had ever heard of it. I had to know exactly where it was for his defense, and I remember he told me it was a little Caribbean island in the Dutch West Indies! Yakko, didn't you say the last place anyone saw Dot was in the Caribbean?"

"Yeah?"

"Then Wakko and Harpo must be with Dot! _That's _why you could never find your sister, Yakko – she was in one of the few places on Earth that criminals and expatriates are safe! She was on Little Trouble Island!"

Yakko leapt up from the couch. "But why would Dot be on an island of criminals? _She's _no criminal."

"Look, your sister was the type of person who always had some scheme going, and whether or not it was legal was completely irrelevant to her. Don't you think in fifteen years one of Dot Warner's schemes would have gotten her in trouble when she had no lawyer brothers to hold back the law?"

Despite the situation, Yakko smiled. "I swear, you were made for this stuff."

"Come on, Yakko, you and I know a lead when we see one. This is a lead. As good as they get in this game. Come on, baby." She started to stride towards the bedroom to begin packing. "You and me are going to the Caribbean…"


	18. Chapter 18

Harpo sat on a piece of driftwood that had made its home snugly on the sandy stretch of beach next to one of the few permanent structures on Little Trouble Island: the Island Soul Grill and Bar. He wasn't exactly sure why all four of them had made their winding way towards the colorful, funky structure that was rumored to have no water, but he kept his mouth shut; something inside of him knew he'd know more than perhaps he wanted to very soon.

Buster was already on his second long island iced tea in the bar, and was telling Red, who was behind the bar scrutinizing the hotel's financial records under the new owner, dirty jokes he'd learned from the dregs of toon prison systems over the years. Wakko had been in town all afternoon trying to track down Dot and only now, as the sun began to set over the water, did he make his way back to the Island Soul. He silently declined a cold beer that Red was handing to him and instead looked down the beach and spotted Harpo.

"Any luck?" Red said, interrupting Wakko from his thoughts.

"Hm? Oh, no. No luck," Wakko said. He wiped his brow. "No one's seen her since you left, Red. They said she could be anywhere. You sure this is where she wanted to meet us?"

"Can't think of no other place," Red answered. He looked thoughtful a moment. "Yep, this is the only place it makes sense to meet."

"Well, if you think a Warner is going to do something purely because it makes sense, then you are sadly mistaken," Wakko sighed.

"Look, she'll be along. Dot takes her own sweet time with these things. Give her a day or two. She'll show up." Red smiled reassuringly at Wakko, who didn't return the smile.

"Hey Wakko! You gotta have one of these babies, they're _incredible!" _Buster said, a little too loudly, holding up the now-empty glass. "I venture a guess that Red is the best goddamn bartender in the Caribbean!"

"Whoa, buddy," Red said, shaking his head. "Obviously you've never had a drink stirred by Miss Dot herself. Why, she can make the tequila sun rise, and make a Bahama out of a mama, you know what I'm sayin'? People used to come from three islands over just to have a little coconut milk and rum shaken by her. Don't say _anything _about my skills 'til you've tried hers. Hey big bro, what'll it be?" Red said with a smile to Wakko. He pointed to the shelf behind him that was practically collapsing from the amount of liquor bottles perched precariously on the surfaces. "'Champagne, si, agua, no,' you know what I mean?" he laughed.

Wakko shrugged. "No, thanks Red." He grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the bartop and made his way down to where Harpo was sitting. "Hey kiddo," he said quietly, sitting down next to his son on the driftwood.

Harpo looked over at him in surprise. "Don't you even want to have a 'welcome to the Caribbean' drink, Dad?" he said earnestly.

Wakko kicked some sand at his feet. "I'm done with that stuff, Harp," he said. "It's not worth it anymore."

Harpo was astonished but didn't show it. "Good," he said with a somewhat relieved sigh.

"You want to walk?"

"Sure."

The two walked side by side down the beach silently for a few moments, soaking up the atmosphere and the sunset which almost seemed to have a supernatural quality to it. "You know, they always said the sunsets down here were incredible, but I guess I never believed it. Now I know why my sister loved it here so much," Wakko said.

"Dot's your sister?" Harpo asked softly.

"Yeah," Wakko said with a smile. "My little sister. I haven't seen her in fifteen years."

Harpo didn't know how a family could cease contact for that long; he'd only been away from Yakko and Babs for a few days, and although he left out of hurt, he was still missing them terribly. He tried to push this feeling to the back of his mind. If he wasn't wanted somewhere, there was no use in going back. He was going to have to get used to the Warner habit of losing family contact. "Why'd you let me come, Dad?" he blurted out all of a sudden.

If Wakko was surprised by that question, his expression didn't betray it. "I don't know exactly. I suppose if I were a good parent, I _wouldn't _have let you come. But you said it yourself, Harp. You're a smart kid. You're wise beyond your years and have earned the right to decide what you want to do. And also, I suppose, I never claimed to be a good parent in the first place."

"Why did you and Mom have me?" Harpo asked, swallowing hard. It was a question he'd pondered his entire life. "I was a mistake, right? An accident."

Wakko was silent for a moment before saying, "You want a fairy tale? Or do you want the truth?"

"The truth." With all that Harpo had been through in the last forty eight hours, a little more honesty wasn't going to hurt him.

Wakko sighed, turning his gaze towards the sun in its final moments of light. "_Now _I wouldn't call you either. If you had asked me seven years ago, who knows? Sometimes I felt that I would die for you. Other times I wanted nothing to do with you. There were times when I had to decide whether to feed you or my alcohol cravings. Sometimes I chose you. Sometimes I chose…well." He shrugged in a defeated way.

"But why her? Why Alballa? Why me?"

"Why God? Why life? Why Yakko, Wakko and Dot, why anything? I don't know, Harpo. I certainly didn't plan my life to be that way. That's just the way things turned out."

A moment of quiet passed between them. Then Wakko felt a hand squeeze his. He looked over to see Harpo smiling up at him. "I forgive you, Dad. I don't want us to hurt anymore."

Wakko felt as though Atlas' burden had just been lifted from his shoulders. He laughed and swung Harpo in the air like he used to when his son was small. He hugged Harpo tightly to him. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered in his ear. "I won't let you down, kiddo."

They sat down right where they stood and watched the last of the sunset fade from view. Wakko listened to his son breathe and thought maybe the world wasn't such a bad place after all.

"What was Mom like?"

He was torn from his thoughts by Harpo's question. He laughed gently. "Constance. Haven't thought of her in years."

"My mom's name was Constance?"

"Yes. She was a waitress in Toontown when I met her. Things got too serious too fast one night when my regular date didn't show up, and well…we were kicked out of the store room by the manager, but the deed had already been done."

"I'm the result of a night of drunken passion…in a restaurant store room?"

"Yes," Wakko said slowly, praying Harpo wouldn't be angry. Instead, however, he heard hearty laughter floating up from the direction of his son. Wakko raised an eyebrow. "You think its funny?"

"Yeah, I do!" Harpo laughed. "God help me, I think that's hilarious!"

Wakko laughed too, more out of relief than humor. "She was fired for it. A while later we found out she was pregnant, and we moved to Alballa because that's where some of her family lived. I wanted to stay in Toontown, but she'd have none of that."

"But, Dad, I thought us toons had to be drawn by an animator. That's what Yakko told me."

This time it was Wakko's turn to burst into peals of laughter. Humans had the 'birds and bees' talk; toons had the 'ink and animators' talk. Both of them were equally ridiculous. "Sounds like something he'd say," Wakko giggled.

Harpo wasn't quite sure why his dad was laughing, but ignored it. "Was Mom a human or something?"

"Constance? No, she was all toon, too. Some toons are drawn by animators. We – my brother, sister and I, I mean – were drawn by an animator. But Harpo, the vast majority of toons you see on the streets are born the same way a human being is. Usually, when an animator draws a toon and thereby literally 'creates' them, it is for a specific purpose. Ours was to entertain. Most of the famous toons weren't natural born, they were drawn by an animator. But there's dangers in that – if the animator isn't equipped with the knowledge of things like kinetics, the toons they draw can just be a waste of a sentient being. I've seen toons that can't walk because their animator didn't know anything about fluid movement."

"How do you know so much about this stuff?"

"I _had _to know it. If I didn't, I could have been killed on our show. All of us could have been. Humans aren't so well versed in human physics, so I either had to have a working knowledge of what I could and could not do, or die in the process of making a cartoon. It's happened before."

"What do you mean, 'die'?"

"One of the oldest gags in the book is to have a fifty ton anvil fall on a toon's head, right? And the toon can bounce right back up and be no worse for the wear. All that stuff is written into the script, whether it looks accidental or not. A toon _knows _that anvil's coming. If a toon knows something like that is about to happen – that they're about to be smashed by an anvil, or hit with a mallet – then it won't hurt us. It can't. But if you take a toon by surprise, then we're as fragile as any human being."

"How can we be, though? We're just ink!"

"Not true. That's like saying a human is just flesh. Just bones. We're made up of different stuff, but we're definitely _more _than ink."

Harpo crossed his arms. "All right then, how do you explain toons having to get re-inked or face death? We can get a thousand anvils dropped on us, but if our ink fades away, then we're goners!"

"So? That's just the way we're made. If you spend your whole life trying to figure out why you exist, then you'll miss the whole _point _of existence. To live." Wakko smiled at his son.

"Wonder why Yakko never told me this stuff," Harpo said with a sigh, leaning back on the sand with his hands behind his head.

"Yakko's always been a little skittish with things like the facts of life," Wakko cackled. "He could talk blue on camera without flinching, but he's pretty modest off camera."

"If the people on your cartoon developed the show around your personalities, why are you so different off camera?" Harpo asked.

"Well, we're not so different. Let's see. If it had been strictly based on our _actual _personalities…Yakko would have been the egotistical, tight-lipped intellectual. I would have been the rowdy brawler. Dot would have been the one with the 'fuck the world' attitude. I don't know. Not such a great premise for a show, eh? But close enough."

"I guess I see your point. Sort of like the right idea, but the wrong details." He sighed. "Dad…I don't think I want to go back to Toontown."

"You never have to if you don't want to," Wakko said quickly. He touched his nose gently and felt a sharp pain. He still hurt where his brother had hit him, and thus he was in no hurry to return to Toontown, either. "Believe me, kid. You can go wherever you want and do whatever you want. The world is bigger and more wonderful than you and I can ever comprehend. That's the beauty of it. The world is open to you."

"Yeah…" Harpo said slowly, looking longingly up at the stars. "The whole wide world…"


	19. Chapter 19

Wakko, Buster, Red and Harpo had fallen asleep on the beach shortly before midnight to the rhythm of the waves breaking on the soft sand of the shore. Buster, who hadn't fallen asleep before daybreak in over ten years, found himself slowly slinking into unconsciousness lulled by both the music of the ocean and from the three Long Island iced teas he'd managed to consume in a couple hours' time. Harpo had been the last to find sleep; he missed Toontown so badly he thought his heart might break but he managed to keep things to himself until the other three had drifted off. That's when he sat up and looked to the heavens, silently wishing for something – anything – that might bring back his normal life. Two days ago he'd been a normal kid, worried about things like girls and homework. Today he was in a place he'd never heard of, thousands of miles from home, with two convicts and a superstitious human as his company, wondering if he'd ever see Yakko and Babs again. It was not a change he welcomed.

Wakko, never one to worry too much about things like fate or what tomorrow would bring, slumbered blissfully until daybreak when he found himself torn from his sleep and gasping. He sat straight up and noticed right away he was soaking wet; the morning sun was blocked by someone standing over him holding an empty bucket.

"You should be happy," the voice snapped. "That's some of the first fresh water on this island in weeks."

Buster and Harpo sat up while Wakko dazedly brushed some of the water off of him. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

The figure leaned down until she was just inches from Wakko's face. A ray of sunlight caught her features and Wakko's breath caught in his throat. "What's the matter, big brother? Don't remember me?"

"Dot!" Wakko cried happily, tackling his sister to the sand. He laughed. "It's you!"

"Of course it's me!" she said in an irritated voice. She pushed away from him and stood up, brushing herself off. "I don't usually go throwing fresh water at strangers on the beach. You're family. For everyone else, salt water is good enough."

"It's so good to see you again!" Wakko reached for her embrace but received a sharp slap on his left cheek instead. He yelped in surprise and rubbed his cheek. "What was that for? I haven't screwed up yet!"

"That's to let you know that this isn't a family reunion, this is business. It's good to see you again too, but I didn't call you down here for a vacation." She turned her attention for the first time to Buster and Harpo. "Who are these two?" she nodded towards them.

"Hell Dot, you mean you don't remember me?" said Red sleepily as he rubbed his eyes. "I only left here a week ago!"

"Not _you! Them!" _Dot said. She sighed and frowned down at Red. "Hopeless," she muttered.

"You know me, Dot," Buster said, standing up.

Dot couldn't help but smile. "Buster Bunny. Well, never thought I'd lay eyes on you again. How's life?"

"Better, now that I'm not stuck in an eight by ten jail cell."

"No explanation necessary. I suppose you're here to help."

"And to partake of complimentary drinks and sunsets."

"Of course. You get paid in rum, I remember that now," Dot said sarcastically. "You can drink yourself under the table for all I care as long as you get the job done." She turned her hard gaze on Harpo, who couldn't believe he was related to such a no-nonsense person. "And this? Who's this?" she said, pointing to him as if he were an object on the shelf.

"My son," Wakko answered. He stood up and stretched in the sunlight. "His name is Harpo."

"Figures. One son and he has to have the name of a Marx Brother," Dot sighed. She looked at Harpo impatiently. "So you're Wakko's kid. What do you do?"

"Wh-What?" Harpo stuttered, not sure of what she meant.

"What do you do, kid?" Harpo looked at her helplessly. She sighed again. "You fit your namesake, you know that? I mean, why are you here? Wakko and Buster are good with explosives, Red is good at everything, and I'm the boss. So why did you tag along? Just skipping school or is there something more amazing that you're capable of doing?"

"He needed a place to go, sis. Go easy on him, huh? He's just a kid," Wakko said, patting his son's shoulder protectively.

"The result of one of your drunken adventures, no doubt," she scoffed, beginning to walk back to the bar. She felt a strong hand on her arm swing her around until she was inches away from the stormy expression on Wakko's face.

"Look," he said quietly so that the rest couldn't hear him. "I've never given one shit what you think about me, but watch what you say about my son. One more comment like that, and we're gone. Fuck your excavation and fuck your treasure. If we leave, you're screwed. Keep that in mind, little sister."

Dot nodded silently. She wasn't used to Wakko defending himself and frankly, she was impressed. She smiled. "So Wakko finally found a family worth having."

"That's right, and I'm not going to lose him again. Not for anybody or anything. Even you."

"Fair enough," she concurred. She jogged ahead and caught up with Harpo. "Harpo," she said stiffly. He turned to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry I came off a little harsh. I'm not really like that."

"Oh no?" Harpo said in mock surprise. "It was just me who had the rare privilege of your breviloquence?"

Dot wasn't entirely sure what that word meant but figured maybe Harpo wasn't a dummy after all. "Look kid, I'm trying to make up here, all right? We can either be enemies or friends, but I am your aunt and I'd like to get to know you."

"Well I'd like to get to know you too, but you can drop this tough-chic attitude. It doesn't scare me and it doesn't impress me," he said with his arms crossed. "And insulting people is not the way to go about making allies."

"You're right," Dot said agreeably, with a smile. Though she could be over-the-top in brashness, she secretly reveled in being taken down a few notches by those who dared to have the guts to challenge her. She was starting to like this kid.

"Dot! Where have you been?" Red said as he passed a beer to Dot. "We've been here for almost twenty four hours."

"Oh, my heart bleeds. Stuck on an island with nothing to do but drink free liquor and swim in the crystal blue waters of the Caribbean sea," she drawled back. "Look, the island was out of water. I did a favor for the owner and went to the next island over and bought a few thousand gallons of fresh water. The guests were about to eat him alive."

"In return for what?"

She smiled. "I got the Island Soul back."

Red's jaw dropped. "But what about the treasure?"

"Relax Red. I haven't forgotten about that. But I saw an opportunity and I took it. If you can get a free hotel, take it, even if you don't think you'll need it." She took a long sip of the beer and looked around thoughtfully. "To tell you the truth, I sort of missed this place. Regardless of the roaches and bad paint job."

"It sort of grows on you. I wouldn't mind owning a little hotel on an island somewhere. To have a permanent home and a permanent job." He sighed. "I can tell you one thing, though. I wouldn't let that cistern go out again. To hell with _buying _water."

"You do what you gotta do," Dot said with a shrug. She pounded on the bartop. "Time for a meeting!" she shouted to Wakko, Harpo and Buster who were sitting in the corner, immersed in a card game. They reluctantly threw down their hands and meandered over to the bar. "Don't look at me like that," she said to all of them, frowning. "You want to know what the hell we're doing, right?"

"Not if I'm up twenty bucks!" Buster said loudly.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Quick meeting."

Two and a half hours later, Wakko stumbled onto the beach and lit up a cigarette. "Quick meeting my ass…" he muttered, exhaling slowly into the mid-morning. "Feel like I know more about that ship than the people who sank on it…" He sat down on a piece of driftwood and watched the waves for a few minutes until he felt someone sit down next to him. He looked over and smiled at his son, who was holding a large glass of iced water. Harpo offered a sip to Wakko, who took it gratefully. "Whoever knew water could taste better than beer when you're really thirsty, eh?" he laughed.

Harpo smiled weakly and looked away. "Look Dad…before we go out on this excursion…I guess you want to know why I insisted on coming with you."

Wakko took another gulp of the cold water and shrugged. "Son, I learned a long time ago that people aren't going to talk about something until they are good and ready. You don't have to explain anything. Believe me, if I could count the number of times I had to get the hell out of somewhere as fast as I could – "

"It's not like that. I mean, I wasn't in any trouble. Well, maybe I was…I don't know…"

"Don't tell me you regret coming?" Wakko looked over at him seriously.

"No, it's not that. I mean, I don't know if I'm _glad _I came, but…well…" Harpo stole a glance at his father, who sat patiently looking back at him. Wakko smiled gently and Harpo sighed. He hadn't realized how easy going and good natured his father was until he'd followed him to Little Trouble Island. When one is in the presence of someone who has made mistakes and is not afraid to admit them, very little animosity can exist and neither can much anger. Harpo was relieved – and perhaps felt that in a way, this had been fate – that the person he was with knew life inside and out. It left comfortable discussion open to almost anything, and that's exactly what he needed at the moment. Harpo bit his lip. "You know, I feel really bad that you and Yakko fought."

"Don't feel too bad about it, kiddo. Frankly it seems to happen a lot in my life, and I'm used to it," Wakko laughed to himself.

"But – your nose – "

" – will heal," Wakko finished. "It's fine, Harpo. Don't worry about Yakko and I."

"So Yakko's the one who gave you that shiner," Dot said quietly as she sat down on the driftwood next to Harpo, looking worriedly at Wakko. "I wondered where you'd got it. You know, I've got a doctor friend on the island. He's wanted for malpractice, but really he's a good guy. Gave the wrong woman an enema, or something. Who knows. I know a lot of people who _deserve _an unexpected enema or two." She smiled but it faded quickly. "Look…I know I gave you sort of a rough reception, Wakko, but I'm really glad to see you. And I'm glad to know you, too, Harpo." Harpo blushed a bit.

"Don't worry about the reception. I got more than a slap in the face at my entrance in Toontown, I can tell you that," Wakko said, touching his nose tenderly and wincing.

Harpo saw the pain in his father's eyes and before he could stop himself, burst, "I'm sorry, Dad!"

Both Wakko and Dot looked at him strangely. "I already told you, buddy. Don't worry about it. It's not like it's your fault," Wakko said seriously. "Kid, you've got a guilt complex as big as Yakko's ego."

"Okay, I can't stand this anymore!" Harpo stood up and began to pace. "I _want _to tell you. I have to tell someone. If I don't, I think I'll go crazy." He kicked a shell and didn't lift his eyes from the white sand beneath him. "When I first saw you standing in the living room, I wanted to scream and punch and kick you. Even when you were talking, all I could think about was how I could hurt you with words and how I could get away from you forever. But when Yakko grabbed you, I just…didn't know he could do such a thing. I'd never seen him that angry. I'd never seen him try to hurt anyone and it scared me. I didn't know he was capable of something like that. And – And – I can't believe I'm saying this, but while it was happening, it was _him _I wanted pull off _you. _I don't know if it was pity for you or just because I couldn't stand to watch my perception of Yakko be shattered like that. Maybe it was both. He was always supposed to be the charismatic, dependable, responsible person in my life – he was my hero, Dad. And he's not anymore." Harpo wiped his nose with the back of his sleep. "And I feel terrible for feeling that way."

"Look, Harpo. He _is _all the things you admired him for. You just caught Yakko in a bad moment. We all have our breaking points. I'm just sorry you had to see Yakko's. "

"I haven't told you the rest," Harpo said sharply. He sniffed hard, trying to will the tears not to come. "You sit here and defend your brother, which is what he tried to do for you when I was little. Alballa was like some nightmare world of my dreams, and all I knew is that you were the token symbol of it. So Yakko was the one I turned to for everything. He was my father, my friend and my teacher." He laughed mirthlessly. "I sound like a bad movie, I know, but it's true. He was my whole world. He and Babs were the only people on earth who didn't just see me as 'Wakko Warner's illegitimate son.' If no one else understood, _they _always did." Harpo sniffed again. "Then you left that day. And Yakko started saying stuff…stuff like, he had never really wanted me…that I was just one more thing his stupid little brother unloaded on him…" Harpo shook his head. "Part of me had been expecting it for a long time. But Dad…he said….well, he said…"

"Take your time, kid," Wakko said softly.

Harpo had tried to tell his father this when he first met him outside the bar a few nights ago, before they took off to break Buster out of jail, but it was no easier to spit it out now than it had been then. "He looked at me square in the eye, cool and collected, and said that I was 'just' Wakko's kid, always had been and always would be." Harpo exhaled shakily. "I can handle the whole world thinking that. But not Yakko. Not him." None of them spoke for a long moment nor looked one another in the face. The waves beating steadily against the shore was the only noise until Harpo said slowly, "To me, you had always been the depths of what I didn't want to be. To Yakko, you were the person he wanted to love but couldn't. Put those two together and then imagine being stuck with the title. I had to come, Dad. I had no where else to go."

"I guess I understand now why you were so adamant to come with us," Wakko said, rubbing his cheek. He shook his head. "I can't believe Yakko would say something like that…"

"Oh, can't you?" Dot said. She looked up at Harpo. "I can. He's got the gift of gab, and he can use it to maim as easily as he can use it to heal. It's his ego that does that."

"My sister, the psychoanalyst," Wakko said glibly, pointing to Dot and smiling.

Dot rolled her eyes. "As soon as you understand Yakko's ego, you can see right through him."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't help me any," Harpo said, gathering up his glass and walking swiftly back to the bar. Dot stood up to follow him, but Wakko put a hand on her arm.

"Sis, leave him be," he said quietly. "Let him sort things out."

"How could Yakko _say _such things?" she said in an irritated voice. "That kid adored him in a way most parents _aren't _adored, and Yakko just throws it away because – because – why did he do it again?"

"Ego?"

"Probably." She sank to the sand and sighed. "Life's complicated, Wakko."

"Life is not what's complicated. _Emotions_ are complicated." He scratched his head. "All you really need to be happy is a place to call home and some people who love you. Who knew that would be so hard to maintain?"

"You're asking the wrong person. I haven't been 'home' in nearly twenty years and the only people who 'love' me are the ones who want my money or my body."

"_I _love you," Wakko said without thinking. "And I don't even want your money or your body."

Dot smiled and hugged her brother close. "Thanks, Wakko. Love you too."


	20. Chapter 20

The strange entourage of toons and humans – Red, Dot, Harpo, Wakko, Buster, Scooby and the crew – departed by sunrise the next morning. Leaving the Island Soul in some capable hands (that she'd met in a poker game), Dot wasn't too worried about land property; her mind was solely on the golden property that lay many miles out to sea.

The day before had been spent several different ways by several different people. While Red poked, prodded and screamed at the _Green Shark'_s engines to make sure they were ready for another long haul on the ocean, Scooby and his crew went about getting all of the scuba gear they needed with the meager budget that Dot had allotted them. Scooby had insisted that Wakko and Buster learn to scuba dive (because he was terrified he'd accidentally blow himself up underwater if it was _he _who had to do the actual setting of the detonators) and, much to everyone's surprise, Harpo asked excitedly if he could be taught to dive as well. That meant scuba gear for three extra people had to be bought in addition to all of the gasoline, food, and explosives that needed to be purchased before the _Green Shark _ventured out to sea again.

Wakko and Buster had been having a renaissance of sorts as they shopped in a ramshackle black market building on the edge of the island for the explosives they'd need for the job. Though nursing a bad hangover, Buster found himself laughing and joking with his best friend as if they'd never been apart; stories, names and old comedy bits he hadn't remembered in years came back to him effortlessly. Harpo, who had decided to tag along with them rather than listen to Red's rants about engine efficiency, listened with a kind of quiet awe to their conversations; all of the snippets of hushed dialogue between Yakko and Babs concerning Wakko, all of the clips of Wakko's cartoons he'd seen, and all of the stories he'd heard about his infamous father were suddenly coming to vivid life. By mid-afternoon, Harpo had silently and unequivocally forgiven Yakko for trying to tell him, without much success, who his father had once been. It was the first time it occurred to him that his uncle might have been right.

The day of departure dawned muggy and uninspiring. By six o'clock in the morning, just as the sun had broken free from the horizon line, it was a humid eighty-eight degrees with no wind. From years of a nomadic lifestyle, Dot never felt comfortable for long in one place and was already eager to get moving just as everyone else was wiping the sleep from their eyes. She did all of the final checks, impatiently ushered everyone on board, drew in the lines and shoved off as the _Green Shark_'s engines roared to life. Harpo watched Little Trouble Island slowly disappear on the horizon and waved goodbye to it, wondering if he'd ever set foot on the island again.

Over the next few days as the _Shark _made its steady way to the _Charlotte_'s final resting spot, Scooby explained the basics of diving and, whenever the boat would slow down for an hour or so while Red and Dot ate lunch, Wakko, Buster, Harpo and Scooby would jump in the deep blue water of the Caribbean sea and do a few practice dives. Wakko and Buster had complained bitterly in the beginning, exclaiming vehemently that a toon didn't _need _dive gear, that he could just "hold his damn breath"; he was "a toon, for chrissakes, we don't need all this damn equipment!" Scooby had calmly suggested that Wakko and Buster demonstrate exactly what they meant. A few minutes later, two soggy and out-of-breath toons broke the surface and gasped, "All right, let us try the stupid gear."

Harpo had taken to the bulky equipment and dive rules quickly for a beginner, and by the end of the first day of diving practice had promised himself to make scuba a lifelong hobby. There was something infinitely peaceful about being one with the ocean surroundings; nothing from the surface world could bother him when he was fifty feet below and watching a school of tangs float past him. He was always reluctant to return to the world of, "Where's the fucking gas can?" "Hey, what's in this sandwich?" "Wakko, do you remember that hot chick with the big tits we met at the Martini that night after the Toon Awards Show?" "Stop it!" "Hey, that's _my _ace!" "If you say one more word, I'm going to rip the tongue out of your mouth," and the like. Although he was beginning to enjoy the company of misfits and eccentrics aboard the _Green Shark, _he was always more than ready to descend to the silent world of the ocean floor.

Meanwhile, Yakko and Babs had found their way to Little Trouble Island almost four full days after the _Green Shark_'s departure. It didn't take long to prove Babs' theory that Little Trouble had been Dot's home for almost twenty years; everyone on the island knew her name and swore they'd know her on sight. Upon learning that their nephew was off island and probably would be for some time, Babs had grown despondent that she might never see her little guy again – to which Yakko promised, quite sternly, that they would find Harpo.

Well, sooner or later.

"Honey, the Caribbean is a big place," Babs said as she stirred her drink at the Island Soul Bar. "It's not like calling up the neighbors and businesses in downtown Toontown and asking where Harpo is. People value anonymity down here and they are willing to defend it. Plus, it seems like every island belongs to a different European country; we can't rely on police cooperation for this because the organization isn't good enough. It's all us, baby, and it's a big world down here."

"You make it sound like we should just forget about the whole thing and go home," Yakko said with a frown.

Babs shot him an irritated look. "That's not fair and you know it. That's _not _what I'm saying at all."

Yakko crossed his arms in front of himself, shooting her a look of his own. "All right, then what exactly are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying we shouldn't have left the porch light on at home, because this is going to take a hell of a lot longer than we anticipated," she growled. "But you're just ignorant if you believe I'm going to give up that easily. Hell Yakko, I'd go to the ends of the earth a hundred times over for Harpo." Babs buried her face in her hands. "I'm the closest thing to a mother he's ever had. He's my baby. I love him, Yakko."

Yakko sighed and bit a couple of his fingers. "Whoever thought I could be a worse father than Wakko, eh?"

"You're not. At least you didn't mean the things you said. Sounds to me like Wakko, back in his Alballa days, meant every word he said to and about his son." Babs cupped her face and stared out at the water. "I know you're sorry about what happened. But I swear to God, Yakko, if anything happens to Harpo, I'll kill you myself."

"Babs, if anything happened to Harpo, _I'd _kill myself long before you ever could," he said, almost cheerfully.

"Do you think he's ok?" the worried tone of a mother asked him.

"Wakko wouldn't let anything happen to him," he responded quickly. Babs gave him a look of surprise.

"A few days ago you weren't about to let Wakko breathe the same air as Harpo."

Yakko sat up and tentatively put his arm around Babs. "Things change. I was in defensive mode. Look…I've started to think that maybe I was…you know…wrong about Wakko. Everyone deserves a second chance. I know that now, because I'd sure as hell like one myself." He squeezed her shoulder. "I'm just sorry that this is the way I had to find that out. It might have cost us your son."

"_Our _son," she corrected.

"_Wakko's _son."

"Yes. Wakko, my and your son. _Ours," _Babs said gently, gazing wistfully at the water. Though Harpo was not her biological son, Babs felt he was in every other way that counted. She longed to wrap her arms around him and kiss him, tell him that everything was going to be all right and that she loved him more than life itself. Babs looked up at the stars and closed her eyes, some tears falling from her cheeks, and whispered in her mind, _I'm coming, Harpo. Don't worry, baby. I won't – can't – rest until I know you're ok. If it takes me the rest of my days and I have to travel to every corner of this tired old earth, I'll find you. I won't stop until I do. _

"We'll find him. He's out there somewhere..."

'Somewhere' at the moment was a nameless shoal that the _Green Shark _had moored on for the night, many miles away from where Yakko and Babs sat on a beach as a pair brooding parents. Things were quiet on board as they always were at night, and Wakko, Harpo and Buster were engaged in a rather dull game of Blackjack 21. As always, it was never the game that counted so much as the conversation that went along with it.

"So I walk into the Brown Derby one night – this is back before they tore it down of course – and I said – hit me – I said to the bartender – don't try that old gag, Buster, it's not funny anymore, I mean _hit me I want another card_ – geez, a toon never forgets a gag, does he? Anyway, so I'm in the Brown Derby, and this is, oh I don't know, in the thirties sometime, and who do you think I see sitting at the bar? Harold Lloyd! So I go over to him, and I say – "

"You met Harold Lloyd, Dad!"

"Yes, let me finish – so I say, 'Mr. Lloyd! I'm a huge fan!' – and you know what he says to me? 'Oh gee, I appreciate that kid, but I'm all washed up. No one knows who I am anymore.' And I say, '_I _know who you are, I've seen all your old reels!' And he said – hit me – he said – Buster, _please _– he said, 'How? I _own _all of my movies! They aren't being shown anywhere!' And – I wanted to smooth things over, see, because I'd seen the cheap bootleg copies in the old movie theater on the east side of Toontown, you remember that place, Buster? – but anyway, I didn't want him to know about that because I was such a big fan, and so I said, 'Well, maybe that's why no one knows you, Mr. Lloyd, if you own all of your own stuff and you never screen it!' And he said – he was a nice man, but didn't quite understand us toons – he said, 'I'm sorry kid, but what does a toon know?' So you know what I did? I made up these phony posters for a 'Harold Lloyd Nite' at that old movie theater in Toontown, and don't you know that half of Toontown came? I mean, granted, there weren't as many toons in those days, but – hit me – but there were still a lot of them, and that stupid Mouse came, and don't you know that the next week a new Mickey Mouse cartoon came out, and there was that damn mouse hanging off the clock like Lloyd does in _Safety Last _– you seen that one, Harp? – and suddenly the whole town is abuzz with those old Lloyd reels! I mean it was like a rebirth for that guy! And everyone gives that stupid mouse credit for something _I _did!"

"Did Mr. Lloyd know?"

"Hell if I know. But a good comedian, at least as good as Keaton and Chaplin. Too bad very few people remember him now, but – shit, let's have a new deal, come on – if only he'd put more confidence into doing talkies, more people would know who he was. He missed out on that. Ruined Keaton too. Well, the alcohol helped too, I suppose. Hit me. But of course, talkies weren't profitable at the very first, so very few people did put confidence in them. Look at Chaplin. It was straight into the thirties before he made a talkie. They just didn't make as much money, so no one started making them consistently until at _least _1929 – "

"Just like Oscar Wilde!" Harpo piped up excitedly. Buster and Wakko shot him oblivious looks, but Harpo was going through 'intelligent discussion withdrawal' and needed an audience. "See, the only reason Wilde did plays was because he needed money and plays _made _money in Victorian England. But he missed his calling, because _Dorian Gray _is brilliant, and he knew it! But novels didn't make money so he continued to write plays! Well, until he was jailed, that is – " Harpo looked up to see confused expressions on his compatriots' faces and cleared his throat, feeling it might be better to make comparisons that they might have some frame of reference for. "It's sort of like…like Ed Wood."

"Now there was a character," Buster said, coming out of the literary fog and stepping back into territory he knew. "You knew him, didn't you Wakko?"

"Sure! He loved us toons. Of course, he loved everyone. I have never man so sweet nor untalented. But he meant well. Too bad he was always broke."

"Though never so broke as to not be buying angora sweaters."

"A man has to have priorities. His were just a little…different." Wakko threw down his cards. "Well, that's it for me. The numbers are swimming in front of me."

"Me too," Harpo said, grabbing the cards and beginning to reshuffle the deck.

Red surfaced from the engine room, hair wild but triumphant. "All systems go for another few hundred miles!" he cheered. Buster stretched and yawned.

"What time izzit?" Buster called up to Scooby, who was standing near the back of the boat and fighting with tangled regulators.

"Late," he said simply, not looking up.

"You want some help with that?" Harpo said to him.

Scooby shook his head. "If you're going to be diving the rest of your life, you're going to be doing this plenty, kid. Enjoy the peace while you can!"

Harpo laughed as Wakko sat down behind him on the gunwale and ruffled his hair. "You enjoying yourself down here?" Wakko said quietly to his son.

"Yeah," Harpo said, sounding surprised. "I really am."

"Good. Because if you weren't, you know I'd make Dot turn this boat around."

"Like hell you would," Dot said as she lifted herself back up on deck from the water where she'd been taking a late-night swim. She smiled at Harpo and pinched his nose. "Plus, the kid likes us. Right?"

"We're like a sort of weird, makeshift family," Scooby said.

"The closest thing to family as most of us will ever get," Buster said with a sad shrug.

"And about as dysfunctional as you can get," Dot agreed. "But for us, it seems to work."

Through nighttime silence came a distant voice on the radio, the beat of a song so familiar and welcome that all souls present felt as though they'd just arrived home. Scooby unconsciously turned up the dial on the beat up old radio and took a slow sip of his beer, losing himself in the song as his faded, worn eyes watched the horizon. "No woman, no cry," Scooby croaked along softly as he wiped some of the condensation from his drink.

"This song…" Harpo started softly, pointing to the radio. "We used to dance to this song in our kitchen. Yakko, Babs and I." A wave of silent sadness suddenly washed over him and he was quiet, not able to finish his thought, the memories coming back strong.

"You know where I was the last time I heard this song?" Wakko said. "I was in that horrible toon prison, in the laundry room. I had been washing the sheets, which was one of my duties there, and thinking how unkind fate had been to me." He began to pace on deck, lost in his own memories. "Then this song comes on the radio, real scratchy because it was coming all the way from Reno – it's about the past, but it's also about decisions. About friends and those who have helped us out. And I realized it was my own decisions that had brought me to that place and time, but that I had a wonderful brother who cared about me and a son that made my life worth living. This song always reminds me of Yakko, too. It's such a wonderful song – I'm sorry the memories of it are painful to you now."

"But I don't hate Yakko," Harpo stammered. "I don't hate him at all…but I can't go back. I can't. Not after that night. I can't make myself do it." He sniffed and looked out to sea. "You guys weren't there. You don't know what his words did to me." Everyone was silent a moment, listening to the reassuring reggae beat come softly from the radio. "I wish I _did _hate him!" Harpo suddenly burst, standing up and clenching his fists. "Do you know how much easier my life would be if I could just stop caring about he and Babs? I wish I could forget all of the good things about Yakko! Why should I love _anyone _who thinks of me that way? Those words – that look on his face – that _should _have made me stop loving him, right? Every rational fiber in my body tells me that I shouldn't still love him!"

"Love isn't as cut and dried as that," Scooby interjected. "Toons and humans alike have been trying to figure out love since the dawn of time, and we're still totally lost."

"So what am I supposed to do then?" Harpo said quietly. "If I can't go home but I can't stop thinking of home, what am I going to do?"

"Harpo," Wakko said as he placed his hand back on his son's shoulder. "Take it from a guy with plenty of bad memories – it's time to make some _new _memories. It's the only way, kid."

"Toontown and whatever happened there is in the past," Buster said, handing Harpo a cold drink. "_This_ family is never going to judge you. We can't. We've made too many mistakes ourselves." All of them laughed.

"We don't care what your last name is, who your father or uncle is, where you're from or even if you're proud of any of it," Red said. He smiled. "We're all stray cats here. But we always land on our feet because we stick together."

"Life ain't always kind, kiddo," Dot said, sitting down next to her nephew. "But if you can find a group of people who will stick by you even when the rest of the world is against you, then you've got everything you need in this life, Harp."

"_I remember when we used to sit_," Buster sang, closing his eyes. "_In the government yard of Trenchtown…_"

"_Observing the hypocrites, as they would mingle with the good people we met…" _Wakko sang with a small smile. Buster opened his eyes and smiled at him. Wakko grinned back, placing his arm around the shoulders of his best friend.

"_Good friends we've had, and good friends we've lost along the way…" _they crooned along together, both smiling widely.

Harpo was captivated by the magic of the moment and found himself singing back, "_In this bright future, you can't forget your past…_"

"_So dry your tears, I say!" _Dot sang, placing a protective hand on the top of her nephew's head and grinning down at him. Harpo laughed slightly as they all burst into the chorus.

"_No woman, no cry…no woman, no cry…"_

"_I remember when we used to sit in the government yard of Trenchtown," _Red sang while doing a funny, slow dance on deck that echoed his time in the remote areas of the Caribbean. Dot stood up and began to dance with him, mimicking his slow movements and oddly understanding what moves he was going to make before he made them. _"Georgie, he would make the fire light…" _

"…_log wood burnin' into the night," _Buster sang.

Wakko put his arm around Harpo's shoulders and pulled him nearer. "_Then we would cook corn meal porridge…" _

"…_of which I'll share with you," _Harpo finished.

"_My feet is my only carriage…" _Wakko sang, looking down at his son. They both grinned. "_So I've got to push on through…" _

They'd come from all corners of the world and all walks of life. Neither of them could be counted as the same, and yet an old sentimental song playing on scratchy airwaves hundreds of miles from shore put them, for the first time, in the same place at the same time. The words, sung with the reverence of a hymn to what went before, guided them past all differences; past all mistakes; no longer bound by their shortcomings, for just a moment they no longer had to count who was wrong or right and why. Certain songs in history have bridged gaps of time, space and individual greatness; it was either luck or fate that one of those songs was echoing off the waves all around them, emanating from a plastic box no bigger than anyone's arm.

Dot dancing with Red, Scooby drinking slowly, Buster to the waves, and Wakko and Harpo sang at the top of their lungs, pulsating with their hopes and dreams, all found in the magical voice of one Robert Nesta Marley,

"_Everything's gonna be all right! Everything's gonna be all right! Everything's gonna be all right!" _


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Right! Sorry for the delay. Lots of excuses (and good ones) but let's just stop wasting time and get back into it, hm? Thanks for the continued interest and your emails, and I promise, I _will _finish this! I _will! _**

* * *

****

Yakko Warner sat on a lonely stretch of beach on an island he couldn't remember the name of, silently berating the phrase "time heals all wounds" for being completely and utterly untrue. Looking up, he could see the Pleiades shining in all its glory, the stray mists of the Milky Way so much brighter than in California or in any other place he'd ever bothered to study the heavens. His body ached and his eyes screamed for sleep, but he knew from months of experience that it was no use. When sleep did come, it was fitful and interrupted by nightmares; most nights he preferred consciousness, however unpleasant it might have been, because slumber always brought worse things from his unconscious mind.

It had been close to four months since he'd last seen his nephew Harpo. Four months since he'd set foot in Toontown, four months since he'd had a decent night's sleep or even a decent meal, four months since seeing Babs give him a genuine smile. He hadn't realized how sprawling and rural most of the Caribbean was and had foolishly assumed it wouldn't be this difficult to locate Harpo, Wakko, and whoever else they might be with. Someone who does not wish to be found can often times be the most elusive creature on earth, and Yakko and Babs had found this out the hard way. He felt he had stepped foot on every island, every shoal, every gritty bar, seen every tree and ridden over every wave the Caribbean had to offer. He also knew they were still a long way from finding that which they sought.

Yakko crawled into the small bed back in the hotel room. For once, Babs had found dreamland and Yakko kissed her gently on the cheek so as not to disrupt her much needed sleep. The rickety little window air conditioner, one of only three in the entire hotel (thus making this room a 'suite') rattled incessantly, giving heed to the rhythmic breathing of the sleeping woman next to him. Yakko sighed and sank down beside her, laying his head gingerly on the flattened pillow and pulling the light covers up over his chest, hoping his mind would allow him just a few hours of sleep before the sun rose over the water once again.

Their frantic plan of action had been born of the desperation that descends on those who feel their window of opportunity is scant. Often times it occurred to Yakko that Harpo didn't _want _to be found, and he was smart enough to evade his aunt and uncle for however long he wanted to. This bringing no consolation whatsoever, Yakko and Babs did the only thing they felt they could: they kept searching.

Meanwhile, the now-thirteen-year-old Harpo found a life of no school and no limits much to his liking, and each day was a new adventure to be explored and won. He reveled in the company of misfits that had become his family and found their eccentricities rubbing off on him rather quickly. The music of the islands – reggae, soca, calypso dances, even slow island ballads – lit up his soul until he felt he might burst into flame for the very brilliance of being alive. There comes a time in every teenager's life when they realize, for the first time, that they are truly _alive_, that they exist, that life is actually just one big human story and the exciting thing is when we all get to "add a verse." Wakko watched this transformation with joy, for while he could still see pain in his son's eyes for what he had lost back in Toontown, it was slowly but surely being replaced with a zealous spark possessed by those free spirits of the world.

"Dad! Dad!" Harpo cried excitedly as he raced bare-chested down the crooked pier towards Wakko, waving a beat-up book in his left hand and grinning from ear to ear. "Listen to this! Listen! 'All I want to do is make poetry famous, all I want to do is burn my initials into the sun, all I want to do is read poetry from the middle of a burning building – '"

"Ssh!" Wakko hissed, pointing down to the water. "You'll scare the fish!"

Harpo collapsed, laughing, on the end of the pier next to his father. Scooby stood beneath them in the knee-high water fly-fishing. "I can't help it, Dad. This book, this _poetry _– do you want to hear more?"

Wakko gave his son a grin of his own. In every place they stopped, Harpo somehow managed to track down any and all books on the island and borrow them from the inhabitants until he devoted himself to all of what the piece had to offer, supped it up and let it consume him. Wakko didn't usually have any idea what his son was rattling on about, but he enjoyed Harpo's enthusiasm for others' words. "Poetry on a sun-drenched pier, eh? Maybe that'll act as bait for the really _smart _fish around here."

"We ain't catchin' no Philistine fish _today_," Scooby laughed his gruff laugh up at them. "Read on, son, let's hear that son of a bitch. Shout it to the heavens, boy!"

Harpo leapt to his feet and screamed, "'Painter, paint me a crazy jail, mad water-color cells! Poet, how old is suffering? Write it in yellow lead!"

"Yeah!" Scooby howled, raising his beer can to the sky. "'Beauty is everywhere, Beaudelaire!'"

"How come they never teach you any _good _poetry in school, huh?" Harpo said, shaking his head. "All we get is Shakespeare and Wordsworth. Dickinson if we're lucky."

"Wordsworth is full of shit," Scooby said as he hoisted himself back up onto the pier, sticking a cigarette in his mouth. "Everyone who can read can see that." Scooby had proven himself to be knowledgeable about more than just diving for treasure and had become Harpo's only real literary audience. Though he had never dared admit it to anyone before in his life, Scooby was a philosopher and always had been. Harpo grinned.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one," he said. "Give me legless kittens dancing on a skillet or give me silence, that's what I think. I hated poetry until I found that not all of it was that 'Ode to a Grecian Urn' stuff."

"There are as many types of poetry in this world as there are poets, kiddo," Scooby said as he gathered his tackle gear and headed back down the pier. "But the only poetry you need to be thinking about is the poetic sound of treasure being blasted from the bottom of the ocean floor," he called over his shoulder.

"Tomorrow, huh Dad?" Harpo's voice broke. He cleared his throat, embarrassed beyond all belief; voice changes stemming from adolescence were a constant humiliation, but thankfully, no one on the _Green Shark _even mentioned it. It was just as well – Harpo felt like he was ten years older than he was and didn't understand why his voice couldn't catch up with the rest of him. "I mean, we'll try it tomorrow, right?" he said in an exaggerated deep voice to cover up the prior embarrassment.

"Sure, and just in time for carnival," Wakko said. He smiled at the sun. "My God, I haven't been to carnival in decades. Me and Buster went down to Trinidad for their carnival once. It was insane, Harpo. You'll love it."

"Tell me about it again."

"Imagine every strange dream you've ever had and multiply it by a hundred. Imagine all the strange creatures, all the strange music, every excess you can think of, every artistic display you can think of, and you've only got the tip of the iceberg. It is one hell of a party, Harpo. Pity that the word 'carnival' brings up images of popcorn and clowns to most people. Mardi Gras is the closest thing _we've _got."

"And that isn't bad," Harpo conceded. He sighed contentedly and gazed out over the two-toned water where the sand met the reef; aqua against deep blue never ceased to captivate the thirteen year old. "You're sure it'll work this time?"

"Yep. The mother load for sure." Wakko stood up and stretched, then began to put his fishing pole and tackle away. "I tell ya kid, even though I get sick of blasting a different part of the wreck every day, tomorrow is the day. I can feel it. No more bringing nothing to the surface. Nope. Tomorrow's the day."

"At least I got this," Harpo said, holding up his necklace. After one blast that had apparently been over the scullery of the ship, Harpo had rummaged around to find the remnants of a spoon with only the ladle still intact, the wood of the handle having rotted away many years ago. Though the others were upset at finding no treasure, the small trinket left over from everyday life aboard an eighteenth century ship charmed him, and he'd kept the small token, wrapping twine around what was left of the neck of the spoon and crafting a necklace that he never took off. He smiled down at it again. "At least we've had some fun along the way."

"That's true," Wakko said with a small laugh, ruffling the hair on his son's head. "It's been a hell of a ride."

Yakko and Babs could technically say the same thing but for much different reasons. After scouring the small island they were on, asking every person if they'd seen anyone of Harpo or Wakko's description, they knew they'd hit another dead end. "We might as well split," Yakko said tiredly as he packed the small bag of belongings they had. "They aren't here and probably never were."

"Where are we going next?" Babs said as she threw the hotel key at the keeper, having paid the bill that morning. They exited the small building and wandered over to the weedy airstrip to see when the next plane was leaving.

Yakko shrugged. "I was kind of hoping you'd have an idea."

Babs stopped. "I do." Yakko looked up at her, surprised. His ratty clothes and weary eyes spoke of exhaustion, and she sighed. "Babe, we need to go somewhere where we can rest for a few days. We've spent four months in the shitholes of the Caribbean. Neither of us has eaten enough, slept enough, or even felt safe. We've been avoiding islands with cities because we feel like Harpo and Wakko would try to avoid cities, but let's face it – we're both headed for a nervous collapse if we don't just slow down for a few days and take it easy."

While nothing on earth sounded better than rest to the long-suffering Yakko, he found himself indignant. "So you want to stop looking for a few days."

"No. For once I want to look for them in a place that also just happens to have clean water, a place where we can take a shower and get a good night's rest, a place that we won't feel like we're going to get mugged. It won't do us any good to end up in the hospital on some God-forsaken island where they've never heard of a medical degree." Babs bit her lip. "I hate the idea too, Yakko, but we need this. We can't run at this pace for very long. Besides, it's not as if we have any leads to go on anyway – "

"Well if you want to go off on some Caribbean vacation, you're more than welcome, but _I'm _going to keep looking."

"Where?" Babs demanded quite seriously. She crossed her arms. "Where, darling? And I'm getting pretty sick of the fact that you seem to think I want to find Harpo less than you do. Jesus Yakko, what are you trying to prove, anyway? Why the hell does everything have to be a competition to you?"

"It stems from youth," Yakko shot back. "And my name isn't 'Jesus Yakko.' It's practically all you've been calling me for months."

"Well I've had a bit of a reason to, don't you think?" Babs said in a steely voice. Yakko said nothing. She continued in an even voice. "If you want to be some goddamned martyr and not admit that you're as exhausted as I am, you're more than welcome. I'm _going _to find my son. But I'm not going to kill myself from some preventable illness before I do. I want to _live _to see him."

"We're toons!" Yakko spat. "Things that affect humans don't effect us in the same way."

"Oh yeah?" she said. "Look in a mirror."

Yakko stared at her for a long moment before sighing in defeat. "You're right," he whispered. "I just feel like if I stop pushing for just a single second, Harpo will slip away forever. I'd never forgive myself."

"Having a couple of decent meals and sleeping a full night doesn't constitute giving up, Yakko. Wherever our little guy is…we'll find him. Somehow or another. There's no where else I'd rather be than in a place where I'm looking for our son."

Yakko ran a drained hand down his face, looking older than he ever had. "God, I don't know what I'd do without you Babs," he said softly, on the verge of frustrated tears. "I really don't. I'm such a fucking mess. How the hell do you put up with me?"

Babs wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. "Because I know you're worth it," she said gently. "And I know you'll never stop searching, just like me. That's the kind of thing that shows me what kind of person you are – not your faults."

"Flight to Tuito's Cay leaves in two hours," a rough looking bush pilot told them as he passed by the embraced couple with the negligible luggage.

"Is there a city on Tuito's Cay?" Babs asked fervently, her attention momentarily torn away from Yakko.

The pilot grinned. "Oh, hell yeah. You ain't never been to Boomtown?"

"Never heard of it."

The pilot nodded. "You will, sister," he laughed as he walked off to fuel his plane. "You will!"

"…so you never saw Gloria again?" Harpo asked Scooby as they were up on deck, getting their scuba gear together for the next blast. "After all those cartoons you made together?"

"Haven't seen her since I left Toontown," Scooby answered. "One helluva woman, though. I always thought…well."

"Well what?"

Scooby exhaled the smoke from his cigarette and sat down on the deck bench. "When a toon is drawn to be with another toon, it's a powerful thing, buddy."

"What do you mean?" Harpo sat down next to Scooby, always eager to hear of an old toon's memories and stories.

"When an animator draws not just one toon, but maybe two, or even several, and they are drawn to be together, it's a powerful tie. One that can't be broken. You're _always _connected to the toons you were drawn to be with."

Harpo looked lost in thought for a moment before saying, "Even toons who are drawn to be brothers and sisters?"

"Yep." Scooby leaned down and picked up a regulator to fix a small leak in the first stage. "Me and Gloria were drawn to be in all those cartoons in the twenties, those silent ones. We could talk, of course, but as soon as either one of us opened our mouth, the studio heads _knew _no one would want to listen to us."

"Funny voices?"

"No, worse – _un_funny voices. The most successful toons in the world are the ones who have a really high voice, a really low voice, or maybe a speech impediment or an accent. Why? Because people go to cartoons to escape from reality. They don't _want _to hear a toon's voice unless it sounds as unreal as the rest of the toon world is. Think about it. We toons don't fit in with a human's concept of reality; that's why we're funny. Laughter is the response to absurdity. But take away the absurdity, like a funny voice, and it isn't nearly as funny. Gloria and I just sounded like two regular joe's, nothin' special about our voices. So when the talkies came in, we were through."

"So what were you going to say about you and Gloria?"

Scooby again dragged heavily on his cigarette. "I thought…well…I thought maybe I could be more to her than just a co-star, that's all," he said softly. "But she drove other guys wild. I mean look at me. I'm drawn to just look like a scruffy tomcat. That was our gag, see – she was drawn to look stunning, to look beautiful, and her compatriot was a beat-up looking alley cat. Audiences thought it was funny because we looked so different from each other. But now that I'm out of the cartoon business, I'm nothing special – I'm not handsome, I'm not dashing, I'm not even clever."

"But you know poetry," Harpo pointed out.

Scooby gave a snort. "So what? Women like a guy who knows poetry only until she realizes that he actually _likes _poetry, that he's not just saying pretty things to win her over."

Harpo's mind darted back to Jessica Hertford, whom he'd left in Toontown four months earlier. He bit his lip. "That's not true. Is it?"

"True enough. Hey you know your uncle Yakko was pretty hot for Gloria back in those days, don't ya? Yeah, he chased her and chased her, but I don't think he ever got anywhere. Gloria doesn't belong to _no one." _

While Scooby laughed, Harpo swallowed hard. He'd tried hard to repress all memories of Babs and Yakko, if only so he could live through each day, but it was hard enough without being reminded by people like Scooby. He managed a feeble smile. "Yeah?" he whispered.

"Yeah." Scooby stood up and stretched. "Well, kid, I'm heading in for the night. Get some sleep, all right? Big day tomorrow. Blasting the last part of the ship – if there's a mother load to be found, we'll find it."

Absent-mindedly stroking the spoon necklace, Harpo looked up at the stars and nodded. "Yeah, ok," he said in a distant voice. Scooby disappeared below. Harpo sighed softly, his gaze not wandering from the night sky. "If it is to be found, we'll find it…and if brothers and sisters were drawn to be together, maybe they'll find each other too…"


	22. Chapter 22

Red hummed an old Bob Dylan song under his breath as he drew in the anchor of the _Green Shark. _All was as well as it could be and today was the day that had been dubbed "Do or Die Day" by the crew. They would either leave the final resting spot of the _Charlotte _as rich men (and woman), or they would go home empty handed. The wreck of the _Charlotte _had been blown to smithereens in several spots in the most likely places for the treasure to have been stored, and Red just hoped that the wreck hadn't been subject to the same fate as many of its counterparts: that is, that its bottom had been ripped out by a reef, scattering its precious cargo for miles, leaving the wreck itself empty. The crew had gone over the diagrams and testimonials again and again, and Scooby's original hypothesis (that the _Charlotte _had sunk nearly intact just a few hundred yards from where it had received its fatal blow) still seemed to be the most plausible. Red just hoped it proved to be correct.

Dot paced the deck, biting the ends of her fingers as she always did right before one of their blasts. Scooby, Harpo, Wakko and Buster suddenly broke to the surface.

"All set, boss!" Scooby cried. "She's ready to go when we are."

The foursome clambered up the ladder and began to peel scuba gear off. Red cranked up the volume on the small boat radio, flooding the boat with the strangely soothing sounds of English choral songs, as the only station coming in with the wind was an old-time religious station that seemed to play nothing except medieval hymns. He shook his head in wonder at this; the last place on earth one would expect to hear "Ave Regina Caelorum" or "O Sacrum Convivium" was in the middle of the Caribbean sea, but he knew that the only stations that could be relied on to reach the _Green Shark'_s staticy frequency were the pirate radio stations that sat way off-shore and played whatever they felt like playing. Evidentially this particular station owner either needed religious healing or was, in his own way, asking God for the forgiveness of some hidden sin of the soul. Either way, it seemed bizarrely appropriate in the wake of the destruction the _Green Shark _and its crew were inflicting upon an old wreck that had undoubtedly sunk with some sinners in her wake. Even pirates needed some promise of something better in the afterlife, Red mused to himself.

"All right Red, take us away," Dot said as she dumped a pile cords over the side of the boat.

The boat needed to be moved a good deal away from the explosions underwater, as the bubbling mess that ensued after an explosion had caused many a ship to sink simply from being sucked down with the physical aftermath of a detonation. Wakko and Buster grinned at one another, proud of their handiwork thus far.

"Whoever knew that blowing trash cans up in Toontown just for the hell of it would help us out someday, eh?" Buster laughed as he wiped his face dry with a towel.

The boat lurched forward. Wakko nodded. "You never know when a useless skill will come in handy. It never hurts to be random in your hobbies and interests."

As the _Green Shark _steadily made her way to safety, Dot popped a bottle of champagne and began doling out little plastic cups full of cheap alcohol. "I didn't want to wait," she said with a sheepish smile. "We've waited long enough for this."

"Hear hear!" Buster said, raising his cup. "A toast! Not only to the _Charlotte, _but to this little family that we've all come to exist in."

"I second it!" Dot said, also raising her cup. Red, Scooby, and the other divers did the same.

"Can I say something?" Harpo asked as he stood up, clutching his glass of champagne to him. "Just real quick?"

"Hell, kid, say all you want," Red said with a warm smile. "You deserve it."

Harpo shifted his weight. The bottom half of his dive suit hung around his waist, making him look bigger and older than he actually was. "I just want to say…I just want to say thank you. For letting me be with you guys, and learn from you guys. You didn't have to let me join you, and you did. That means a lot to me. All of you mean a lot to me."

Touched, the others silently raised their glasses to the boy, all giving him broad smiles. "We're in this together, Harp," Scooby said.

Harpo smiled back at him, enjoying the rare moments of sentimentality shared among the misfit family. "Well, I guess there's only one thing left to do."

"What's that?"

Harpo grinned. "Let's get some damn _treasure!" _

Everyone cheered and Red halted the boat. Wakko and Buster stood poised over the detonator, when Scooby pushed them away. "Let's let the boss do this, eh? She's the one who got us into this whole crazy adventure. She's the one who's got to end it, too."

Dot smiled and made her way over to the detonator. She clutched at the small box and looked excitedly at all of them. "This ain't the end, Scooby. It's a new beginning."

With that, a terrific explosion erupted from underneath the water, shooting water ten feet into the air and creating a massive amount of foam as splintered wood floated to the surface. Everyone on the _Green Shark _cheered, and waited with plenty of champagne and baited breath for the roaring spot to calm down enough to dive.

Twenty minutes later, the _Shark _was once more moored over what was left of the wreck of the _Charlotte. _Harpo was suited up and already in the water as Wakko, Buster and Scooby tossed over netted buckets with which to bring up what they hoped would be the mother load. "We won't be able to get all of it today," Scooby explained as he yanked his mask over his face. "But we can at least get a good start."

The first thing to greet Harpo's eyes as he descended to the bottom was the light of the sun catching something shiny. It momentarily blinded him until he realized it was exactly what they had all hoped for – gold, and a mother load of it.

Tears appeared in Scooby's eyes and his mask began to fog up; Wakko shook Buster's hand excitedly while Harpo simply stared at the forest of gold beneath them. _This is the most incredible thing I've ever seen, _he thought as he studied the hole the explosion had made to reveal that which they sought.

For the next half hour or so, the crew of four worked quickly loading the coins and heavy gold bars the size and shape of incense holders into the netted baskets. When they were as heavy as the ropes could hold them, Scooby gave the signal for "up" and the four began their ascension.

"Dot!" Harpo shouted upon breaking the surface. "Come look at _this!" _

When he looked up to the deck, expecting to see his aunt and Red, he instead met the gaze of two uniformed officials smiling down at him condescendingly. "We knew you'd have to come up eventually," said the taller of the two. "Not even toons can hold their breath forever."

Behind Harpo, Wakko, Buster and Scooby came to the surface with a splash, laughing and cheering for what they'd found. The celebration quickly stopped upon seeing the two strangers aboard the _Green Shark. _

"Looting a wreck is a crime, boys," the officer said, sizing up the foursome as a lion might its prey. "And after _that _little explosion, I'd say you guys ain't going to see the Caribbean sunshine for a _long _time."

Buster threw his mask angrily into the water. "I don't _want _to go back to jail!" he shouted at the officers, as if that might make a difference.

"And we were so close, too," Wakko said with a note of melancholy in his voice as he looked at the pile of gold in the raised baskets.

"I'll take that," the shorter officer said as he pulled the heavy basket up on deck, using all of his strength. "Been tracking you guys for a long time. By the way, thanks for finding the _Charlotte. _I'm sure the Boomtown Police Department could use a big screen TV. Or seventy."

"Bastards!" Scooby hissed. "This is _our _wreck! We found it, we did all the work! We don't owe you guys _anything!" _

"Look," Harpo started in a sensible voice. He figured getting hysterical wasn't going to do much for their situation. "What if we let you guys keep some of the treasure, huh? If you'll get off our backs? That's a fair trade, don't you think?"

"I've got a better idea," the taller officer said in a dangerous voice, leaning down towards the water. He grinned a humorless smile. "Why don't you get up out of that water so we can haul your asses to the Boomtown Jail?"

"What've you done with Red and Dot?" Wakko demanded. "Where's my sister?"

"She's fine," the officer responded in a disinterested voice. "Are we going to have to come in there to get you, or what?"

"Try it, buddy!" Scooby said, brandishing his dive knife at them. "Come down here and see what happens!"

The two officers laughed. "Oh, we could _leave _you here if you wanted us to, boys. But I have to tell you something; it's a helluva swim back to dry land!"

Looking around, Harpo knew they were right. It took hours by boat to even get to the site of the wreck – they would surely drown from exhaustion if they tried to get back on their own. _Even a toon has limits, _Harpo thought despondedly.

The _Green Shark _was towed inland to Tuito's Cay behind the officer's boat. Harpo, Wakko, Red, Dot, Scooby and Buster sat on the back deck of the police boat, handcuffed on a chain to one another, all cursing under their breaths.

"They just came up so fast," Red whispered to them. "And I couldn't leave you guys down there."

"Don't worry about it, Red," Buster said, a little sadly. "There was nothing you could do."

"I'm sorry kid," Wakko whispered. "Really I am."

"It's all right Dad," Harpo said.

Wakko sighed. "No, it's not. I wanted better for you. This is a side of life I never wanted you to see."

"I've seen a lot already," Harpo said. "Believe me, this would be a lot worse if I didn't at least have some idea of what I was in for."

"I guess that's true," Wakko conceded. He fiddled with his handcuffs. "We'll figure some way out of this, buddy. You are going to live a better life than I did. I'll make sure of it, and it's a promise. I always keep my promises."

"I know," Harpo whispered to his father with a smile.

* * *

Yakko and Babs had settled in at the Neonfish Inn on Tuito's Cay a few days before and had been taking the opportunity to sleep and eat at leisure. When not engaged in these activities, the two roamed the crowded, somewhat piratical-looking Boomtown, showing pictures and giving descriptions of Harpo and Wakko to anyone who would give them a second. So far they'd come up short, but the first quiet moments of peace in months had done them both a world of good.

"This is the best steak I've had since we left Toontown," Yakko commented as he hungrily devoured his dinner that night at the Inn. "I swear, if I had to eat one more serving of conch soup…"

"I know it," Babs said with a nod, tearing into her own steak. "I don't think I'll ever eat anything that swims ever again. I've had to last me a lifetime."

"What do you suppose all this hubbub is about, hm?" Yakko asked, pointing to a street crew hanging decorations on lampposts in the street. "Ever since we got here, it's like they've been preparing for something."

"It's carnival time," the waiter said just as he appeared at the end of their table to refill their water glasses. He laughed and shook his head. "Where've you two been? Carnival's like the biggest celebration of the year everywhere in the Caribbean."

"We haven't been to any cities, that's for damn sure," Babs said.

The waiter shrugged. "That's probably why. The country people celebrate it too, of course, but everyone knows that the best place to be during carnival is in a city. Like Boomtown."

"When does it start?"

The waiter shook his head again, exasperated. "Man, you two really _haven't _been around, have you? Tonight. It starts tonight. Lasts for about a week."

"And I assume you're going to partake in the activities?" Yakko said in a teasing tone, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course!" The waiter looked as if this was the most obvious fact in the world. "Everyone on the island will be here. _Everybody's _going to celebrate. Won't be a place in the whole city that's open. Except for the jails; I guess they need a place to put the drunks who are beating everyone up."

"Well even the drunks need a place to go, I guess," Yakko said with a smile.

After a hearty meal and a walk on the beach, Yakko and Babs sat on railing of their balcony, overlooking downtown as the celebration started. It seemed like an endless parade of loud music and even louder costumes, the island inhabitants dressing up in all kinds of outrageous, imaginary animal costumes; alcohol flowed as freely as the effortless dancing of the natives. Yakko had to admit that after months of quiet island life, it was sort of a relief to see vivid, brightly-colored life right beneath him. For the first time in what seemed like years, he clasped his hand around Babs and grinned at her, the first real smile he'd given her since being in Toontown. It felt good to smile again.

* * *

Meanwhile, a few miles away the strange entourage of toons and Red stood in the small, dimly lit booking room of the Boomtown Jail, waiting to be thrown in a cell until god-knows-when. Harpo nervously fingered his necklace as Dot, the last in the group to get booked, pressed her inked finger to her arrest report. "This is ridiculous," she muttered. "I'm a toon. I don't _have _fingerprints."

"So?" the clerk sneered. Dot shot him a cold look; she knew the only reason he was insisting on fingerprinting the toons in the group was to humiliate them further. The two officers who had arrested the group stood in the back. The tall one suddenly broke into a grin, nodding to Red.

"Look buddy," he said to Red. "You and me are both humans, right? So let the toons take the fall. Come on, carnival has just started." He smirked at the toons in the group. "They're just toons, anyway. Who cares?"

"I do," Red spat. He stepped closer to the toons. "And I'm not going anywhere. These toons have been better friends to me than any human ever has. I'm staying."

Dot looked up at him, surprised and grateful. Red smiled down at her a little bit. The officer shrugged. "Have it your own way, pal, but if you want my opinion, you've been hangin' around toons too long."

"Maybe you've just been hanging around humans too long, _pal," _Red shot back. "This is my family, and there's no way in hell I'm gonna leave them now."

With that said, the six were ushered into a small cell and locked down. "The lawyers won't be back until carnival is over," the guard said with a simpering smile. "Even then, I don't think you stand much of a chance."

"Thanks," Dot said sarcastically. Sighing, she sank to the floor. "Jesus. I'm sorry about all this, you guys…"

"We knew what we were getting into and we were all willing to take the chance," Buster said. "And it's not as if there's any one of us who hasn't been in a jail cell before." A cough from Wakko brought Buster's attention to the youngest member of the group. "Oh. Yeah, except Harpo. Heh."

"So what's going to happen now?" Harpo asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Now?" Wakko sighed. "Now we wait for a miracle."

* * *

"Damn," Babs said as she slammed the receiver down on the hook back in she and Yakko's hotel room. "The goddamned phone doesn't work."

"Honey, on these islands they still have operators. Everyone's at carnival, remember?" Yakko said, leaning against the open window, his gaze not leaving the festive scene below. "Why? Who're you trying to call?"

"I'm trying to call my partners back at the law firm," Babs said. She leaned back on the bed. "They've been keeping an eye out in the newspapers to see if there's any word about someone of Harpo's description." Yakko looked at her strangely. "What?" she shrugged defensively. "It's worth a shot."

Returning the shrug, Yakko turned back to the window and dragged on his cigarette. Since this escapade had begun, his old habit had returned with a vengeance. "Well, good luck getting someone to connect you, babe. The only people who could do it are all down there," he said, pointing to the crowd below. "And they're all completely drunk."

"I haven't called in over a week. Maybe they found something."

Yakko looked to the floor. "So…have you been fired yet?"

"Of course," Babs answered quietly, going into the bathroom to splash some cool water on her face. "Not showing up to work for months on end tends to get you fired."

Yakko stubbed out his cigarette and sighed softly. "Sorry about that, Babs."

"Don't be," she answered. "I'd rather be unemployed if still having a job meant not looking for Harpo."

Yakko's eyes returned to the party scene outside and he laughed a bit to see a beat-up looking vessel with green sharks painted on the side tied up at one of the docks. "What a weird looking boat," he whispered to himself.

"I've got it!" Babs suddenly cried from the bathroom. She rushed back into the room. "The jail! The waiter said the jail was the only thing open, right? They _must _have a phone there. Maybe they'd let us use it."

"We could check, I guess. You really want to know that badly?"

"For some reason, I do. Call it a hunch," she said, grabbing her purse. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Getting to the jail proved more difficult than might be expected because of the mass of humanity that stood between the Neonfish Inn and the Boomtown Jail. After jostling their way through the crowds for a good twenty minutes, the cracked mortar of the jail finally rose up above them. Yakko took a deep breath. "Ah, our second home. Seems like a million years since I last stepped foot in a jail to talk with a client. Almost like being home again."

The difference between what lay outside the jail and what lay inside could not have been more drastic. Outside was a glittering display of art in motion, all people of all kinds roamed, singing and dancing happily to the music that just kept coming, while inside was quiet, dark and morose. A lone clerk looked up at them apathetically. "It's a little early to be throwing drunks in the jug, isn't it?" he drawled.

"Look," Babs said as she hurried to the desk, eager to explain. "I really need to use the phone and you have the only working one on the island."

"The phone, huh?" the clerk said as if he'd never heard of anyone needing to use the telephone before. He seemed in no hurry compared to the frantic posture of Babs, and he took his time in sizing up the situation. "Well, I don't think it'd do any good. No local calls would get through. You said it yourself, honey; only working phone on the island."

"It's not local, but look – " she continued hastily, in the hopes that he wouldn't cut her off once he learned it was going to be a long, _long _distance call. "Look, I'm a lawyer. We both are," she gestured to Yakko, who waved. "I need to call my…office…and check on…something."

"Lawyers, huh?" Still the clerk was in no hurry. "Need to call your office. For what?"

"I…I can't divulge that information," Babs said quickly, hoping to sound covert and professional. "But it pertains to something very important, and I need to get in contact with them."

The clerk made a snorting sound. "Well, what are you going to give me in return?" he said suggestively, leaning closer to Babs. "I mean, a pretty little lawyer like you – "

Babs wasted no time in grabbing the swarthy man's shirt and practically yanking him right over his desk. "I'm going to give you a goddamn bloody nose, that's what, you little twerp. I'm in no mood to deal with ignorant misogynists tonight. I need your phone, and I can either do it with your consent or I can do it with your consent while your face drips blood, got it?" She looked at him fiercely. "I'm not going to let you stand in the way of finding my son," she whispered icily.

"You'd better let her use the phone," Yakko piped up helpfully. "Believe me, you don't want to be at the receiving end of those fists of fury. Policeman or not."

"All right, all right," the clerk said, trying not to betray the nervousness of his voice. Babs' grip loosened. "Use it for whatever you need to. It's not like _I _need it. But your friend here can do me a favor."

"What?" Babs said, her voice not cooling off any but letting the man go.

The clerk sat back at his desk, looking more than a little relieved. "There's a bunch of looters in a cell in the back. Caught digging up treasure from a wreck today. Go back and scare 'em a bit, huh? They seem to think they have rights or something."

"I don't know anything about shipwrecks," Yakko said in a neutral tone as he lit another cigarette. "Or the laws that pertain to them."

"I'm not asking you to recite shipwreck laws to them. I'm just asking that you go back there and shut them up. Make 'em know they did something wrong and they're going to pay for it. Our lawyers will be useless for the next week; they won't be acting any better than the drunken reprobates they usually represent. You're probably the only sober lawyer on Tuito's Cay. Go on. I'm tired of listening to them bitch."

"Go on, Yak. Do the best you can," Babs said as she began to dial the number for the States. "It's the least we can do."

Yakko resisted the urge to roll his eyes at this statement but nevertheless allowed the clerk to lead him back to the holding cells. "The last one on the right," the clerk said, pointing to the cell. Yakko nodded and tried to prepare himself, as he always did, for seeing a client behind bars. He hadn't done it in months and so felt out of practice; he also didn't exactly look like a lawyer tonight, so he doubted whether he'd be able to put the fear of the law into anyone, least of all hardened treasure hunters.

He stuck his cigarette in his mouth and loped along the corridor that stank of urine and wet paint, as jails always did. Before he even reached the cell, he started in on them, hoping his 'lawyer voice' hadn't left him even if he was out of practice: "All right, all of you, I hear you're in for looting a wreck. It's a serious offense, one that carries jail tim – "

The words died in his throat upon seeing the six occupants of the cell. The cigarette hung from the side of his mouth, forgotten, as his eyes wandered over those individuals he thought he might never see again.

"Wakko? Dot?" He swallowed hard. "Harpo?"


	23. Chapter 23

Sighing, Babs hung up the phone on the clerk's desk, shooting him a strained smile. "Bad news?" he drawled, uncaring.

She turned to him, looking him deep in the eyes. "People think bad news is the worst thing you can hear. They're wrong. No news is much worse. Even in worst-case scenarios, at least you _know. _No news means no finality, no leads, no nothing." Babs leaned against the counter. "It's a bootleg sunrise. The day can't really begin without knowing where he is or how he's doing. So the sunrise must be stolen. It must be a bootleg sunrise that I see every morning."

Not one for philosophical thoughts, the clerk simply shrugged and turned back to the rag mag he was reading, giving her no more indications of interest. She paced the interior of the small, dilapidated lobby, half-formed thoughts in her head and no words coming to her lips. What seemed an eternity later, the heavy wooden door separating the lobby from the cell block flew open to reveal Yakko standing in the doorway, looking considerably wan, his shirt slightly askew and a hardened look harboring emotion on his face. "You know you've got a minor in there?" he said in a steely voice to the clerk.

"What, the kid?" the clerk said behind the desk. Babs' ears perked.

"He's only thirteen." Yakko threw a meaningful gaze at Babs, as if confirming that which she dared not hope for. He jabbed back at the cell hallway. "You can't hold him."

A lump formed in Babs' throat, knowing instinctively that her son was near, but she maintained her lawyer cool. This was too important to screw up.

Yakko straightened his shirt slightly and brought himself up to his full height. He knew very well that the jail _could _hold a thirteen year old, but hoped the clerk was ignorant enough to believe anyone who looked like he knew what he was talking about. The clerk, for his part, started to look a little anxious.

"I can," he warbled, in a hideous attempt at seeming competent. "I can, and will." The icy stares from the two toon lawyers standing in front of him made a shiver run down his spine. "M-My boss won't be in until tomorrow. There's really nothing I can do – "

"Tomorrow?" Babs interjected with a mirthless laugh. "If you don't let the minor free, by tomorrow your 'boss' will have a court summons on his desk." She smiled smugly, eager to give a little of the clerk's smarminess right back to him. "I'll call my office right back and they can FedEx me the appropriate forms. They'll be here by tomorrow morning, and I know I certainly wouldn't mind bringing you _and _your boss to the witness stand to explain why you're trying to hold a thirteen year old kid."

"Unless Boomtown authorities want to give sued by the two best lawyers in Toontown," Yakko started with a disaffected brushing of his sleeve, finally back in his element, "…and I don't think the judge would be too keen on explanations why the only local lawyers were too drunk to even read the rights to those imprisoned. Toons or not, they're still American citizens. This ain't your ballgame, mac. It's ours."

The clerk's expression betrayed both fear and confusion. He threw up his hands. "But there's nothing I can do, all right?" he said in a meek voice.

Yakko, cool as Dylan, sidled to the clerk's side and jangled a set of keys hooked to his belt. "I think you can do plenty," he said in a dangerous voice, his eyes not leaving the terrified clerk's. Yakko smiled darkly. "You made a mistake in letting an honest lawyer back into those cells, buddy. Ignorance can't close the eyes of those who know the truth, so open sesame. Got it?"

"H-He'd still have to be brought in for questioning," the clerk whispered up to Yakko, who immediately backed away in a false show of the clerk's authority.

"There won't be a plane leaving this island for a week. You said it yourself. The only thing that'll be coming and going out of this island are the mailboats. He's all yours for questioning, but sticking him in a holding cell until the lawyers sober up is quite a different demand," Yakko told him, resisting the urge to point condescendingly at the small man.

"Just do it, sir," Babs said in a tired voice. This was a tactic she'd often have to use in situations back in Toontown; make the opponent feel that you knew the score and were tired of the game. Calling him 'sir' was just an extra slap in the face. "Or we won't hesitate to take action. Hell, we gotta do _something _on our vacation, right babe?" she said, smiling a knowing smile at Yakko.

"And we aren't such big drinkers, so we've got a _lot _of free time on our hands," Yakko said. "And man, oh man, we _like _working vacations!"

The clerk jumped up from his chair. "All right, all right!" he sighed in defeat. He jostled the keys from his belt loop and began to lead the couple down the cell block corridor. "God, I am so gonna get fired for this…" he muttered to himself as he picked out the right key.

"Harpo?" whispered Babs to Yakko. It was all she needed to say. She knew he'd understand her cryptic mutter. Yakko gave her a funny lopsided smile and slung an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her to him gently.

"Harpo," he whispered back. Babs swallowed a sob.

Upon seeing Yakko had returned with a clerk bearing keys, Harpo jumped up from his seat and hurried over to the bars. Yakko stood behind the clerk, making a shushing motion with his hand. Harpo nodded slightly and threw a look behind him to make sure the other toons (and Red) had understood also. They seemed to, for although they recognized Yakko as their salvation, they only sat demurely looking at the floor. "You can go," the clerk grumbled as he swung open the door. Harpo darted out with the others hot on his heels, but the clerk slammed the door back into the faces of Red, Dot, Scooby, Red, Wakko and Buster, who all looked as shocked as Harpo did at this action. The clerk sneered slightly at those still behind bars. "I meant the kid," he said. "You all are staying put."

Both Yakko and Babs longed to throw their arms around Harpo after seeing him again in months, but the charade had to be upheld and they abstained. Harpo seemed to have momentarily forgotten that his aunt and uncle were now on the same side of the bars as he was; all he could focus on was his second family still locked behind the steel door. "Wait a minute!" he cried to no one in particular and everyone at the same time. "Wait a minute, you've got to let them out, too!"

The clerk jerked his head in the direction of Yakko and Babs. "They tell me you're a minor. We can't hold a minor. Not until we've got everything we need on you, that is." He grinned malevolently. "And _that _should only take a few days at most. Don't worry. This isn't a _permanent _separation."

Harpo swiveled to meet the gaze of his aunt and uncle, a pleading look on his face, one that was ready to erupt into anger at the slightest provocation. "I want to stay with them," he practically shouted. "Make him let me back in!"

"You're not going anywhere but with us, kid," Yakko said, doing his best to keep any and all emotion out of his voice. Lawyer training had come in handy. "He said it. You're a minor, and you're not supposed to be in there."

"Yes I am!" Harpo cried, clutching the bars in his hands, looking at his compatriots on the other side. "That's _exactly _where I'm supposed to be! Put me back!"

"Come on," the clerk said gruffly as he grabbed Harpo by the shoulders and began to steer him towards the lobby. "Get the hell out, and don't be surprised when a couple of cops show up looking for you in a few days, got it? Don't try to run because there's no where to go."

"I can't _leave _them!" Harpo protested indignantly. "Put me back! _Put me back!" _

"No noble thoughts, kiddo," came Wakko's voice from down the hall. "It's not often life deals you a 'get out of jail free' card. Take it when you can get it!"

"Dad! But – wait – "

Alas, it was too late. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind them once the foursome were in the sanctity of the empty lobby. Harpo struggled free of the clerk and backed into a corner, not sure if he was angrier at the clerk for pushing him away from the others or at Yakko and Babs, who had initiated it. "Who do you think you are!" he shouted. He couldn't think of anything else to say, his head clouded with the rage born of perceived injustice, and he shouted again, "_What_ do you think you are!"

"They're your legal guardians until you can be brought to questioning, that's what," the clerk explained as he signed a few exit papers before throwing his pen back on the desk and heaving himself back into his normal spot. "Now get out of here. I'll probably already get canned for all of this, so you could at least do me the courtesy of getting out of my sight."

Fuming, Harpo threw open the front doors and marched out into the street, taking refuge under a street lamp and trying to lose himself in the music and dancing before him. He couldn't tell if the sporadic light in the sky was coming from some off-shore lightning storm or if it was simply the bright lights of carnival that were illuminating the sky. Yakko and Babs emerged a moment later, and silently took their place next to him. Yakko lit a cigarette and dragged heavily, and was more than a little surprised when Harpo grabbed it from him a second later and took a few deep drags of his own. Sensing reprimands wouldn't be logical or even helpful in this situation, Yakko simply sighed.

_Leaving the rest there to rot, I suppose. Wants me all to himself. That was probably the cause of that one-sided spat we had back in Toontown, _Harpo thought to himself, taking another drag on the cigarette and noticing it was a much better brand than the cheap stuff the crew usually smoked. Having lived in a kind of anarchy for the past four months, when no one said or did anything to stop someone from doing exactly what they wanted, Harpo knew he had changed, and even he couldn't count the changes as all positive. _It was a fair trade anyway, _he mused as Babs stepped nearer to him.

Someone in a nearby bar was doing an old John Lee Hooker song on an equally old electric guitar, and Harpo tried to get lost in the music, not wanting to hear any words except those of a man impersonating a legend. However, his aunt's voice was perhaps the only voice on Earth that could cut through to him, and despite not wanting to, he heard her say, "We'll get them out, Harpo. We promise."

_The only promises worth making are the ones you know you can keep, _Harpo said to himself in his head, not looking up at Babs. _Don't lie, Babs. For God's sake, don't lie. _

"Looting a wreck. So it _was _another one of Dot's schemes. I should have known. I should have _known," _Yakko muttered to himself. Harpo heard him and threw him a sharp look, silently daring his uncle to say one more word against Dot. Yakko gave Harpo a somewhat cold stare of his own. "I know you didn't have a lot of options, kid. But what would you have done if Babs and I didn't just _happen _to be on this island tonight?"

"Not now, Yakko," Babs said in an irritated voice. "We found Harpo, and we know where the rest are. We're a helluva lot farther ahead than we were a few hours ago. Now all we can do is find a way to get them all out of there," she pointed back to the dingy jail. Looking back down at Harpo, Babs' emotional fortress broke and she suddenly wrapped her arms around the small figure leaning against the lamp post, holding him tightly to her. The tears she thought she'd been holding back did not come, almost as if the incredible array of relief was too much to express at a moment so close to their discovery.

Harpo didn't hug back though some part of him wanted to very badly. Instead, he took a last long drag of the cigarette and threw it to the ground, breaking the hug. Yakko, too, wanted to hug his nephew, but knew that if Babs' hug was not returned, his most certainly wouldn't be either. "Come on, kid. You know us better than this," he said softly.

_No I don't, _Harpo thought fiercely to himself. _I thought I did, but I don't. _

Some of this thought must have been expressed on the thirteen year old's face, for Yakko sighed and put his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry about that, Harpo," he said, meaning their fight back in Toontown. "Truly I am."

Harpo threw him a questioning glance but said nothing, remaining stoically silent.

"I…I don't know why I did it," Yakko said. He looked thoughtful for a moment before answering his own question in a shaky voice, "No. I know why. Because I'm a complete and utter asshole, that's why." Harpo looked up at his uncle, more than a little surprised. "At the risk of sounding like a bad movie, you're the most important person in my life. And in Babs' life too. I couldn't leave you thinking that I didn't care about you, that I didn't think about you every second of the day. If you live the rest of your life thinking that I'm a jerk, that's all right with me – but I at least wanted you to know how much you meant to me. And that if you'd let me, I'd spend the rest of _my _life trying to make it up to you."

_Not long enough, _Harpo immediately thought. He grimaced, ashamed and confused by his own thoughts. He kicked aimlessly at the ground.

"Look, let's get something to eat, all right?" Babs said finally, not able to take the silence. "I'm famished, and Harpo probably is too. Come on."

Yakko and Babs strayed into a nearby café, watching Harpo as they went and silently praying he would follow them. Harpo's gaze didn't leave the asphalt but he could feel them go. Sighing and looking up at the stars, he observed the perfect order of the cosmos above him and thought, _The stars mock my own shambled life. They fucking mock me. _He gritted his teeth slightly but noticed a rumbling in his stomach. He'd have to go with Yakko and Babs eventually since there was no way to get off the island, and decided a free meal didn't sound bad. Turning, he ambled into the café, his thoughts both billions of miles away and right there on Earth, where it seemed nothing good came of anything anymore…


	24. Chapter 24

"Do you think we have a shot in hell at actually getting out of here?" Buster whispered to Wakko as soon as Yakko, Babs and Harpo had left the building. A pensive look marred his face. "Or do you see it how I see it: Yakko and Babs got what they wanted – Harpo – and are gonna leave the rest of us here to rot?"

"Give him a little more credit than that, all right?" Wakko said in a voice that bordered on being sharp. "Neither Yakko _or _Babs will be able to sleep at night knowing we're all still in here."

"You're considerably more optimistic than I am about this whole thing," Dot scoffed.

"Have a little faith!" Wakko cried. "Yes, they got Harpo, and although I don't know how in the hell they just happened to be here at the same time as us, Yakko's not going to leave us in the dust. He's not going to forget about us."

"Why not?" Dot snapped back. "He's done it before."

Wakko frowned at her. "That was years ago."

"Well did you see how he didn't even give us so much as a second glance?" Dot began to pace. "As soon as he saw Harpo, he couldn't have cared less about what was going to happen to us. Then he gives that clerk some lawyer bullshit and gets the kid out of here. I'm with Buster on this. He's not coming back for us. We're on our own."

Wakko stood up and looked out of the small window in their cell, down onto the street activities below them. "I know my big brother better than this. He'll get us out of here." He sighed, silently hoping he was right. "He'll come back for us."

In the corner, Buster sat with his head in his hands. He, for one, was grateful that all of Yakko and Babs' attention had been on Harpo; it saved him the awkward re-introduction to his old co-star that he had dreaded for years. _I don't want her to see me like this, _he thought to himself sullenly.

Harpo slept soundly in one of two large beds back at the hotel room, exhausted from the day's events. He hadn't said a word to his aunt and uncle since leaving the police station, opting instead to revert back to his namesake and keep his mouth shut. If he had probed deeper into this strangely instinctual reaction, he might have realized it was the same response he'd lived through in the first five years of his life: silence over cutting words that stirred so near to the surface.

Yakko had taken refuge outside on the balcony, watching the lighting storm just off-shore. The hubbub in the street had only died down a little bit, and music could still be heard blaring from open bars and from street corners. _I guess even hard-core partiers have to sleep sometime, _he thought to himself.

His thoughts turned to how on earth he was going to get his brother and sister out of jail. He was determined to do it, but had very little idea how to go about it. Shipwreck laws were not something he was versed in, and he knew he had to get to a legal library, and quickly. A lone library did hang on the outskirts of the city, and Yakko knew that most libraries did have plenty of legal reference books since libraries were required by law to contain them. All the libraries were closed, however, and he wasn't sure when they would re-open again; it seemed a hopeless situation, at least until carnival died down. Judging by the vigorousness of the partying, however, he didn't know when exactly that might occur.

It was five full days before lawyers finally showed up in front of the jail cell containing Wakko, Dot and the others. By that time, having survived both jail food and nicotine withdrawl, all of them were in a filthy mood and looking for a fight.

"It's hopeless," one lawyer, Maccy, said as he shut his briefcase with finality. "Looting a wreck is a crime, and you were caught in the act. Believe me, you're all going to be here for a while."

"We'll see about that. We've got two of the best lawyers in California on the case," Wakko lied, teeth clenched.

"Oh really?" Maccy drawled as he stood up. "And I suppose the little boy is going to help too, hm?"

"Leave Harpo out of this," Wakko said.

"I can't," the lawyer said with a humorless smile. "He was involved too. You all will stay in here, but him? He's a minor. He'll go straight to juvie."

"Are you kidding? They'll eat him alive!"

"That thought didn't seem to bother you when you were fifty feet below pulling gold bars, did it?" the law said condescendingly. He smirked at all of them before heading out into the hallway.

"Shit!" Wakko shouted, pounding the bars. He turned to the others in the cell and sighed. "Shit, this isn't what I wanted for him, I wanted _better – _"

"What happened to Mr. Optimism, huh?" Dot said quietly. "Aren't you the one who's supposed to say that Yakko and Babs are going to get us out of this?"

Wakko turned to his sister, seething words on the tip of his tongue, but Dot's expression was fearful and anxious; not a trace of malice showed. He took a deep breath and sat down on the floor, back to the wall and said nothing. A silence of submission overcame them all.

"Wakko? Dot?" a familiar voice rang down the hall as footsteps approached. A moment later a pensive looking Yakko appeared in front of the cell. A smile broke out on his face. "Good to see you guys again."

"Save it, Yakko. What can you do to help us?" Dot said, standing up. "How can you get us out of here?"

"Uh…yeah," Yakko answered, scratching the back of his head. "That's sort of what I needed to talk to you about…"

"How's Harpo?" Wakko interjected.

Yakko shrugged. "Hasn't said a word since he left this police station. Most days he leaves in the morning, disappears into the crowds of carnival, and comes back to the hotel room at night. Babs and I haven't really tried to stop him." He shrugged hopelessly again. "I-I don't really know what to do."

"Look, the kid has to start talking again sometime, all right?" Red said, coming to the forefront. "Let's just worry about how we're going to get out of this mess. Once we're officially charged with these crimes, the cops are going to see all the _other _stuff we're wanted for in other countries and other islands. And I, for one, don't want to be jailed for the rest of my life for things I did as a stupid nineteen year old."

"What kinds of other stuff are we talking about, exactly?" Yakko said, cocking an eyebrow.

Red gave a shrug of his own. "Oh, you know. I robbed a couple liquor stores in the Keys, stole some cars in Mexico, things like that."

"How do you know you'll be charged for them? I mean, were you ever caught?"

"I was…uh…pursued, you might say," Red answered with a strained grin. "They _know _what I did. They just haven't found me yet."

"And…well…Wakko and Red sort of broke me out of jail," Buster said, embarrassed.

"I'm wanted for pick-pocketing," Dot piped up.

"And I ran a few…business schemes…that might get me in some hot water," Scooby offered.

Yakko put his hand on his forehead. Things had just gotten slightly more complicated. He sighed heavily. "Allll right…" he muttered, beginning to pace. "Ok…all right…so now the game is trying to get you out of here before they find out about any of your…um…past escapades."

The four souls in the cell looked up at him hopefully.

"You know, you could've told me all this five days ago," Yakko said. "You realize that you've got sober lawyers working against you now, right? Oh, God. I could have had time to come up with a plan, I could have prepared – "

"You're always trying to think ahead, Yakko," Dot said. "Come on! Thinking on your feet is what you're good at!"

Yakko shot her a look. "I'm good at it when I know approximately what I'm doing, yes. When I've had time to think things through. You realize that the only place on this island with the information I need is now under lock and key, right? I don't know when the library will be open again."

"Library? Who needs a library?"

"A lawyer who doesn't know the laws pertaining to the offense, perhaps?" Yakko began to pace. "I guess I could call a few people back in Toontown, but I don't know how much good it would do. The amount of time for them to sift through materials to get to the exact information I would need would take more time than we've got. Plus, not too much material would be about shipwrecks, I imagine."

"Well you've got to do something!" Red cried. "I hate to say it, but you're our only hope! You're _Harpo's _only hope!"

"I know, I know!" Yakko shoved his hands in his pockets. "Look, I'll figure something out. I don't think much will be happening before tomorrow morning anyway. That gives me tonight." He nodded to them. "I'll do everything in my power. I'll get you out of here."

"Well how exactly do you propose we do that?" Babs said later that night in the hotel room during dinner as Yakko told her and Harpo of his afternoon's conversation with the fivesome in the jail cell. "I'm open to suggestions."

"That's the thing, I don't know." Yakko poked at his food. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do."

Any attempt to make Harpo open up and speak had been mostly ignored by the thirteen year old, but that didn't mean that Yakko and Babs had stopped trying. Brightly, Babs turned to Harpo and motioned at his spoon-ladle necklace. "That's an interesting thing," she said in a voice she hoped sounded intrigued. "Where'd you get it?" Silence. "Some little island shop somewhere?" More silence.

"Looks pretty old," Yakko said, giving the necklace a good once-over. "Did you get that off of a shipwreck somewhere?" Harpo said nothing and kept his eyes on the room-service dinner he was eating. Yakko sighed softly. "Look, I know you're worried about them. And I'm going to figure something out. I have to. They'll be officially charged tomorrow. Then it'll be too late to do much."

_Then why are you still sitting here eating dinner? _Harpo wanted to scream. Instead, he immediately shot up from his seat and left the room. Yakko threw his fork back down on his plate. "Great," he muttered.

"He's thirteen. Give him a break," Babs said.

"It's amazing to me how royally fucked up everything is," Yakko said with an uncharacteristic sharpness to his voice. "If only I could get into that library."

Babs placed her empty dishes back on the cart and stood up to leave. "I'm going to go look for Harpo, all right? I'll be back soon."

Yakko waved half-heartedly and watched her go. He made his way out onto the balcony, enjoying an after dinner cigarette and the view from his perch. The party was back in full swing. "She's never going to find that kid in all of this," he muttered to himself. As he watched the grand display below him, he couldn't help but feel that small island police force must have been completely overwhelmed with dealing with drunk in public charges and with any fights that might break out. An epiphany struck him but he tried to push the idea away, because surely he, a lawyer, shouldn't do anything illegal? He'd spent a good chunk of his life defending the law and rooting out injustice against toons. _So what happens when that happens to be two completely different things? _he thought to himself.

He had no doubt that the fact that those in jail were mostly toons was working against them and would continue to. This was the reason he was so frantic and why a plan, albeit a sort of desperate one, was forming in his mind. Before he could think better of it, knowing it was perhaps his only chance, Yakko grabbed a lightweight jacket and exited the hotel room, closing the door shut quietly behind him.

He jogged as best he could through the crowded streets, pushing aside drunks as he went, hoping neither Babs nor Harpo spotted him as he steadily made his way towards the outskirts of town. _I can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe I'm doing this, _he repeated to himself like a mantra. But the thought of his siblings in jail and Harpo not believing in him anymore drove him forward until he was standing in front of the deserted library. Not even any streetlamps shone this far from the celebration, as the island's electricity was sparse at best and so all energy had been fueled to the city for the duration of carnival. "Gotta love the islands," Yakko muttered to himself. At least this way, he could slip in unnoticed.

He found a window in the back and swung himself up on a tree limb until he was level with the window. With a grunt, he tried to push it up into the open position with all his might, but found that it was either stuck or locked. He sat on the tree branch as best he could balance and tried to come up with a rational plan of entrance. _So it comes down to this, _he thought to himself. _One of the best lawyers in Toontown, and I'm breaking and entering. Way to be a hypocrite, Warner. _

For the first time since he began in law, Yakko fully understood the desperate actions of some of the toon criminals he'd encountered. The vast majority of them were good toons, who were doing something either out of desperation or because they were trying to help a friend. He'd long ago become calloused to the ethical reasons _why _a toon did something, and instead would focus his mind on getting the toon free. He started to realize that if Wakko had been as desperate back in those days as Yakko was now, perhaps Yakko had been wrong to so harshly condemn him.

With this thought fresh in his mind, Yakko threw himself back into pushing the window open, pooling his strength and thinking only of his family. After what seemed an eternity, a slight _creak _emitted from the window, opening about an inch. Revitalized, Yakko spent the next five minutes slowly inching the window open to the point where he could crawl in. This he did, and tumbled to the floor of the ancient library.

Once inside, he let his eyes adjust to the dim light before venturing towards the front desk, rummaging through the drawers until he produced a flashlight. Careful not to beam the light out of the windows, and thereby attract attention, Yakko stayed low until he found the reference section. Though small, he found the legal collection and started pulling books down off the shelves quickly and piling them in his arms. _I will never take the twenty-four hour library in Toontown for granted ever again. _

After two hours of fruitless searching through the books, Yakko was feeling more and more frustrated by the second. He threw aside the open book and put his face in his hands. A lone book was left of the once-massive pile, this one entitled _Underwater Management of Submerged Cultural Resources. _For the layman, this simply meant 'shipwreck laws' but Yakko wasn't feeling optimistic. He'd sifted through dozens of books exactly like it and had not found one thing that might discredit the charges of looting a wreck. Sighing, but ever hopeful, he threw open the last book and began scanning the index and chapter titles. He stopped when one index entry read, "Ownership of shipwreck cultural sites in international waters, pg 238." For some reason this intrigued him; from studying the approximate location of where the six had been arrested out on open water according to the preliminary police report, Yakko knew the wreck they looted _did _lay in international waters. He didn't know why this would make much of a difference, but he flipped to the correct page and began to scan the small entry. After a moment, a bystander might have noticed Yakko's eyes light up. He ripped the page from the book, hurriedly shoved the books back on the shelves in the correct places so no one would know he had been there, replaced the flashlight in the desk, and slipped out the window.

He'd just found everything he needed to get his family out of jail.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: We're on the home stretch, folks, but this isn't the end quite yet.**

"Yakko, where've you been?" a voice hissed in the darkness as soon as Yakko entered the hotel room. "It's almost sunrise!"

"Babs!" Yakko stumbled through the darkness until he found her sitting on the couch. He collapsed beside her and pulled her into a hug. "Sorry I was gone so long, but it was worth it; I think I've found what I was looking for!"

"Couldn't you have left a note or something?"

Yakko shook his head and got up to fix himself a drink. "No, because I knew you'd come for me, and I couldn't risk that."

In the darkness, Babs raised an eyebrow. "Where exactly were you that you couldn't tell me?"

"I broke into the Boomtown Library," Yakko said as he downed a gulp of his drink.

"_You _broke into a _library?" _

"Yep! But don't worry." He pulled the page from the book out of his pocket and grinned. "I got what I needed. Did you find Harpo?"

"Yeah," Babs said, still reeling from the shock of the usually straight-edged Yakko breaking and entering. "He's asleep in the other room."

Yakko crossed the room and looked out the window, watching the first glints of sunrise on the horizon. "I hope by the end of the day he'll…he'll forgive me for all of this."

"We'll see." Babs stood up and stretched. "Now that I know you're alive and haven't been dragged off into the wilds of the Caribbean, I can catch a few hours sleep before we head down to the police station." Yakko nodded and watched her go off to the bedroom.

A little while later, he wandered into Harpo's room to find him wide awake and staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head. He didn't even look over at his uncle as he entered the room and sat down on a chair next to the bed.

"Harpo?" Yakko whispered. Harpo didn't respond. Yakko sighed. "So I have to ask you something. I think I've found a way to get everyone out of trouble, but I need for you to answer an important question first." Harpo slowly looked over at him. Yakko reached forward and clasped the small spoon-ladle necklace in his hand, looking at his nephew seriously. "Did you get this off of the wreck you looted?"

Harpo said nothing.

"This is important, Harpo."

Still, nothing.

"Harpo. If you want Wakko, Babs, and the rest of them out of jail and walking down the street as free people by tonight, you need to answer my question."

Harpo sat up and his lips trembled slightly. "Y-Yeah," he stammered finally. "Yeah, I got it off the wreck. Why? Am I gonna get in more trouble for it? Are _they?_"

Yakko's face broke into a grin. "No, buddy. I think you might have just saved everyone. Come on and get up. We've got four toons and a human to save."

Babs, Yakko and Harpo were at the police station in minutes, just as the Boomtown lawyer Maccy showed up. Yakko and Babs politely introduced themselves but didn't feel the need to make small talk as they all entered into the station and waited for the clerk to hand over some paperwork.

"Well, let's stop wasting time and get this over with," Maccy said in a business-like way as he laid his briefcase down on the counter. The clerk nodded and disappeared behind the heavy wooden door that separated the lobby from the cell block, and returned a moment later with Wakko, Dot, Scooby, Red and Buster in tow. Buster averted his gaze and hoped Babs didn't notice him. She, however, was too busy frantically looking over the marked passage of the book page Yakko had brought with him, and had to admit it was a brilliant loophole.

"You all are going to be charged with destroying an underwater cultural resource. Boomtown is sorry for the delay," the clerk drawled uncaringly as he began to stamp some official looking documents. "And unless the lawyers representing you want to contest the arrest, then – "

"We do," Yakko interjected strongly. "And we have proof that what these six were doing was _not _simply _looting _a wreck."

"What are you talking about?" Maccy practically cried, impatient to get this formality over with. "They were caught _in the act _of looting! There's nothing you or your counterpart can say to contest that! There's nothing you can produce to say that they are not guilty!"

Yakko smirked. "Wrong."

He strode over to his nephew and plucked Harpo's necklace clean from his neck, holding it up to the light. "What would you say this is, Mr. Maccy?"

Maccy shrugged. "Dunno. Looks like a spoon without a handle."

"Right you are. Can you guess at the age?"

Again, the opposing lawyer shrugged. "Looks sort of corroded. I guess it's old. Look, what's the point of all this?" He glanced impatiently at his wristwatch. "I've got breakfast with the mayor of Boomtown in fifteen minutes. If you've got something to say, just say it."

Yakko began to pace, once again back in his natural habitat. "All right then, it's this: under submerged cultural resource laws for international waters, international law stipulates that if an object of cultural value is removed from a shipwreck site, the shipwreck site becomes the _legal property _of the person who took the object. This spoon ladle – which you yourself identified as both a spoon-ladle and an antique item – was, in fact, plucked from the site by none other than Charles Warner, standing right here." With this, Yakko pointed to Harpo as he finished his speech. "Thus, Mr. Maccy, the six of these people have _not only _committed absolutely no crime by pulling gold off of the wreck, the shipwreck and all objects within it are the _sole and legal property _of this kid standing right here. You can't hold him by any legal right, and so it is completely Mr. Warner's decision whether he wants these five – " he pointed to Scooby, Red, Dot, Wakko and Buster, " – to be charged with looting _his _wreck." Yakko turned to Harpo. "Well, Harpo? Do you want to press charges?"

Harpo, still stunned by the revelation that not only was he not in any trouble, but that he actually _owned _the wreck of the _Charlotte_, nevertheless shook himself from his shock and immediately shook his head no. "Absolutely not!" he thundered. "I want them all released immediately! If they aren't, then I'm going to press charges on the Boomtown authorities, and I already know that the two best lawyers in California will be representing me!" Harpo gave Yakko the first genuine grin in four months, silently thanking him for getting them all out of this situation. Yakko grinned back, happier than he'd felt in years.

"Well, you heard Mr. Warner!" Babs said hastily, shooing Maccy out of the way while she ripped up the charge sheets the clerk had been holding out to him. "Release these five _immediately, _or face prosecution. I'm still not afraid to bring you to the witness stand to defend why you held a minor, especially a minor who was legally innocent the entire time."

The clerk, though red in the face, clenched his teeth and did his best at a smile. "Well, it seems there's been an error," he said in a quaking voice. "Good thing your lawyers knew their stuff."

"I knew he could do it!" Wakko whispered. The handcuffs were unlocked and the five on one side of the room were reunited with the three on the other.

"Dammit," Maccy muttered as he shut his briefcase. But to the rest he only scoffed, "Like Boomtown really cares about one little wreck! We've got a few more _important _things to do!"

"Yeah, like trying not to get puked on by someone with a carnival hangover when you're on the way to breakfast with the mayor," Harpo laughed at the small man, who only threw him a dirty look as he exited the building and left their lives forever.

"Just get out of here!" the clerk shouted. "It's carnival, for Chrissakes! Go on, get out! Biggest party of the year and you're all standing around! Go on, get out of here…"

"Well, it's time to do what we do best," Wakko said, rubbing his hands together and grinning. "Let's party!"


	26. Chapter 26

True to their desire for liveliness, the recently reunited Yakko, Wakko, Dot, Harpo, Babs, Buster, Scooby and Red headed out into the celebrations of Carnival to enjoy everything the small island had to offer. They all split up and went different ways, and despite the early hour, Babs decided the situation warranted a good tropical drink or two and she was enjoying a Mai Tai in a nearby bar when a certain blue-eared rabbit finally worked up enough courage to approach his old co-star.

"Heya Babs," Buster said quietly as he took the barstool next to Babs. He attempted a smile. "Nice to see you again after all these years."

Babs, though she'd caught a few glimpses of him that morning, was too preoccupied earlier to get a good look at him before now. Her expression betrayed her shock at how different he appeared now from the last time she'd really looked at him many years ago. Nevertheless, her smile was genuine and she hugged him tightly. "Hi Buster," she whispered to him, stroking his back affectionately. "Good to see you again too."

"Weird how fate brings toons back together, hm?" Buster said, his smile becoming broader.

"Yeah. How'd you find your way into this mess anyway?"

"Sometimes I wonder," he conceded. "But it's been a helluva ride. You got a good kid in Harpo, you know?"

"Yeah," Babs said, stirring her drink. "He'd be worth a thousand of these misadventures."

Buster blushed slightly. "You would be too, you know."

Babs, knowing full well of Buster's feelings for her, only smiled. "Thanks."

An awkward silence ensued and Buster shifted in his seat. "I used to wonder why it never worked out between us. Hell, I used to blame it all on Yakko, you know? Felt like he'd just come in and stolen you away. Used to be mad about it. Real mad. But now, after all of this…I don't know. I'm not so angry anymore. About anything."

"It was a long time ago, Buster."

"I know." Buster motioned to the bartender for a beer. "But that didn't used to change how I felt."

"We could sit here for hours postulating why things turned out like they did. But I don't want to. It's a waste of time, Buster. It was so long ago."

"But so much has happened…I guess I just wanted to prove to you that I'm not that way anymore."

"Look," Babs turned to him. "It wouldn't change anything between us. But I'll tell you this; you kept my son safe. That means a lot to me. More than you know. And maybe that proves to me that you aren't the old Buster anymore. Maybe you grew up some."

"It was all Wakko."

"It takes a village."

Buster shook his head. "I didn't do anything."

Babs smiled. "Yes you did. Buster, the reason it never worked out between us is because I could never count on you back then. You did so many stupid and crazy things, I felt like I could never trust you the way I could trust Yakko. It made it all the worse to know that you could be such a wonderful and talented guy when you _wanted _to be. The Caribbean is one of the most dangerous places on earth, and you and all the others kept Harpo safe when Yakko and I couldn't. I didn't know I could count on you like that because you'd never proved it to me before. Harpo's safe and healthy. You cared for my son when I couldn't. Buster, that means the world to me. And whether or not you _believe_ you had anything to do with his well-being, you did, because you were _there. _Before all this, I didn't think I could trust you with petty things like money and showing up on time for dates; now I know I can entrust the life of the most important person in the world to me to _you. _That's quite an accomplishment. Quite a leap from our days in Toontown."

Buster couldn't help but beam. "Maybe I'm not such a waste of a toon as I thought I was."

Babs smiled back. "I know you're not."

Buster looked lost in thought for a moment. "Thanks Babs," he said finally. He smiled at her, and for the first ever he saw her as his friend, and not simply someone he'd hurt in the past. Things suddenly looked much brighter in the life of Mr. Buster Bunny. "Maybe I can show the world the same, hm? That I'm not a total screw-up."

Babs patted his cheek. "I know you can," she whispered to him. "And if there's ever anything I can do to make it up to you, just tell me. Whatever it is, I'll do it."

"There is one thing."

"Name it."

"Wakko and Red broke me out of jail. Do you think…?"

Babs' lawyer mind was already working. "What were you in for?"

"I accidentally blew up some trash cans in Tucson."

"And how did they break you out?"

"Dynamite."

"Easy," Babs said, taking a long sip from her drink. "If a toon can prove that what he did was for a laugh, you're free. You're a toon, and not just _any _toon – blowing up stuff is something that both you and Wakko are good at. We'll convince the judge that you did it to be funny. Believe me, I've wrangled tougher cases than that a hundred times over. Give me a week, and you'll have your official pardon. Just promise to stay out of trouble from now on, all right?"

Buster felt he might burst for happiness. Instead, he threw his arms around Babs and hugged her tightly. "Thanks, Babsy! You're a lifesaver!"

"No, you are," Babs said, pulling away. "Which is why Yakko and I owe you any favor you wish to ask."

Buster grinned and took a swig of his drink. "You know, all in all, it's not bad that you ended up with a guy like Yakko. Yakko's a good guy."

Babs smiled, looking out the window to where Wakko, Yakko, Dot and Harpo stood talking. "Yeah. You're right. He is."

"…so I guess that's why I decided to go with Dad," Harpo was saying outside to his uncle, flanked by his aunt and father. "I felt like, at least Dad wanted me. At least he wanted me around."

Yakko, perched on his knees, kept his eyes locked on the ground beneath him. He felt as small as his position. "Jesus, kid. I'm sorry."

Harpo shrugged. "I guess – I guess it's ok," he said, though he wasn't quite sure he believed it.

"No, it's not ok. I promised you that I'd never make you go back to him if you didn't want to. And I broke my promise. I made you feel like you were so useless to me, you _had _to go back with your dad. I made you feel like you didn't have any choice in the matter." He sighed, his ego having been severely bruised by the events of the last four months. "Every once in a while, life slaps you in the face and reminds you that your pride shouldn't be the only thing in your life worth protecting, worth caring about. I made the mistake of believing that, whether I was conscious of it or not. You brought me to my knees, Harpo, and no one's ever done that before. Perhaps if they had, this would have never happened. I need to just fucking get over myself, you know? I'm sorry this is how I had to get my education in what my pride and ego can do to other people." He looked up at his brother and sister. "If I had learned it the first time around, with you two, maybe I wouldn't have ever said those things to Harpo. And maybe I wouldn't have lost track of both of you two, either. I could say 'I'm sorry' a thousand times and never be able to make it up to all of you."

"Look, by the virtue that you even spent four months looking for all of us, I'd say that shows right there that your ego can't have control over every part of you anymore. Hell, you even broke the law to save all of us – Mr. Upstanding-Citizen can go fuck himself, you know?" Wakko said with a laugh.

Yakko smiled. "I never had to be in your shoes before, Wakko. And over the last four months, I _was. _The people I cared about wanted nothing to do with me, and for once, _they _were dealing the cards, not me. It hurt. It hurt really bad. I'm sorry I ever made my little siblings feel like that. No one should have to feel like they've been thrown away by their family." They were all silent a moment before Yakko exhaled loudly. "I guess what it really all boils down to is what you want to do now, Harpo," Yakko said, looking worriedly at his nephew.

Harpo kicked at the ground but a smile played on his face. "I-I want to go back to Toontown and stay with you and Babs, if that's all right with you, Yakko. I'd like to go home again. I've missed it."

Yakko had to restrain a teary grin, but hugged his nephew to him. "Of course it's all right," he said quietly. "But are you sure that's what you want?"

"You said it too, Yakko – you can't throw your family away because of a few mistakes," Harpo said to his uncle. "If that were the case, none of us would have any friends, or any family. You spent four months out here, sleeping in strange rooms and island hopping as though your life depended on it. I'd say those actions negate what you told me in Toontown about never wanting me."

Yakko hugged him tighter. "You're wise beyond your years, kiddo. Thank you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out Harpo's necklace, which had saved them all. "I believe this is yours," he said, piling the small necklace in Harpo's outstretched palm. "And, I believe Mr. Warner had a shipwreck out there that he needs to decide what to do with."

Harpo thought for a minute before saying, "I want to get the treasure off. But then I want to donate my holding of the wreck to a university or a museum, so archaeological research can be done on it. There's not much left of the wreck itself since most of it has been blown to smithereens, but they could probably pull a fair number of artifacts off of it. That's worth doing." All of them looked at him strangely, wondering why a thirteen year old cared about things like archaeological research. Harpo shrugged and smiled. "Share the wealth, I always think," he said. "We shouldn't be the only ones who hold the secrets of the _Charlotte. _Plus, what would _I _do with a Caribbean shipwreck, anyway? I'm going back to being a normal thirteen year old student in Toontown. I have no need for it."

"Fair enough!" Dot said. She heaved a jubilant sigh. "Well, now that we've got familial issues worked out – as well as they're _going _to be worked out for now – let's get a steak and a beer. I think I need a good excuse to get Red and Scooby away from those dancing gypsies over there."

Indeed, as the foursome looked to their right, Red and Scooby were busy happily grinding with an inebriated group of islanders, oblivious to anything but the street music. Wakko shook his head. "Life's just a big party to some people!" he sighed. All of them looked at him with a bemused look; this from possibly the biggest partier Toontown had ever known.

The foursome caught up with Scooby and Red and made their way into a local restaurant. "By the way, I saw Gloria a few months ago. She sends her love," Yakko said to Scooby as they walked down the street.

Scooby looked at him, surprised. "You mean she _remembers _me?"

"Scooby, I think _forgetting _you has always been the hard part."

Scooby beamed. It was enough to make an old stray cat feel wanted.

Buster and Babs caught up with the rest of them in the restaurant, and they spent a long dinner laughing and reminiscing about things past, present and what they hoped the future might bring. After dinner, as they all meandered back to the hotel full and happy, Yakko hung back and grabbed Babs by the hand, grinning at her. "Glad it's all over?" he whispered to her.

"For the most part, yes," she answered. They looked ahead of them to where the colorful party continued unabated, this time with Dot, Wakko, Scooby, Red and Harpo joining in the party. "But you have to admit, this has been one hell of an adventure."

"Well, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," Yakko started nervously, scratching the back of his head. "But the time never seemed right before now."

"What is it?"

"Um…" Yakko gazed off in the distance, never imagining that this would have been so hard. "I – uh – I wanted to know if…if you wanted to get married."

Babs smiled softly. "So after all these years, you finally want to make it official, hm?"

"We've got a home, we've got Harpo…all that's missing is…well…making things official." He grinned. "And you know how us lawyers love to make things official."

She couldn't help but laugh out loud. Babs pecked him on the cheek. "Well, in that case, I guess the answer is yes."

"Really?" Yakko blurted, sounding years younger than he actually was. "You mean after all of this, you still want to?"

Babs laughed. "Now more than ever, buddy." She pulled him forward into the dancing crowd.

"And, quite honestly, I can't think of a better place and time to celebrate an engagement…"


	27. Chapter 27

_**Epilogue**_

**Yakko and Babs**, jobless upon return to the States, pooled their money from their share of the _Charlotte's _riches and opened their own law firm. Their first case, the much-publicized trial of Buster Bunny, proved entirely successful in their favor, bringing every down-and-out toon on the wrong side of the law to their doors. Yakko, an avid advocate of toon justice, and Babs, recently versed in legal loopholes, continue to win a good portion of their cases and have become the most successful toon legal duo in the country. They were married shortly after their return to Toontown; the guest list included every toon in Toontown. Wakko and Dot were best man and bridesmaid, respectively.

**Harpo**, per his wishes, continued to live with Yakko and Babs and attend Toontown Junior High. His absence was forgiven, as he tested out of his grade and was moved to the next grade with his original class. His father continues to be an important person in his life, and they see each other often.

**Wakko **used his portion of the treasure to buy his first house near Yakko, Babs and Harpo in Toontown. He does freelance work as a toon consultant to animation studios, using his extensive knowledge of how toons work (and how they _can't _work) to newer toons who are not so well versed in their own limitations.

**Dot**, never one to rest on her laurels, stayed in the Caribbean. In one heated round of poker, betting against another of the best players in the islands, Dot won and came into possession of a map from 1768 that supposedly marks the final resting spot of the _El Capitana, _a Spanish galleon loaded with riches. The expedition to find the lost galleon left soon after that, with a fresh coat of paint on the _Green Shark. _

**Buster** moved back to Toontown and recently published his autobiography, _The Wild Boys of Toontown, _documenting the life and times of he and Wakko Warner from their initial rise to fame all the way through their escapades in the Caribbean. It received great critical acclaim and has gone on to be the greatest classic of toon literature ever written.

**Red** made it back to Little Trouble Island and bought the Island Soul Hotel and Bar with his share of the _Charlotte_'s treasure. He keeps the cistern in good working order.

**Scooby** & company continue to dive for hire in the Caribbean with the only stipulation that each of their tanks _always _be filled to 5000psi.

**Gloria** did eventually get re-inked and was forced into doing another come-back special. However, she became a cult hero overnight when she blew up the soundstage where the special was taking place, proclaiming in a now infamous statement that she was "…sick and tired of the goddamn past, and so is everyone else. Let's move on and talk about something _interesting, _for Chrissakes!" The antics sparked tremendous new interest in her work, particularly among college students hungry for underground heroes, and with the royalty money that poured in from new sales of her cartoons, Gloria purchased the Blue Martini and was recently quoted in the newspaper as saying, "For the first time in eighty years, I have a damned good excuse to spend every night of the week there."

**Constance** drove the red convertible all the way to Las Vegas where she sold it to a crooked used car dealer on the south side of town for $5,000. She found the nearest roulette table and put it all double or nothing on black. She won.

**The Island Hopper** has finally finished her story and has _gone divin'!_


End file.
